Michael first met you around four months ago. It was a Monday morning, and The Beef hadn’t been open that long when you came in. Your hair was a bit messy, eye bags under your eyes and a slight frown on your face. He asked you for your order and you paused for a second before asking which sandwich was best for a hangover.

After eating an Italian Beef, you were much better and smiling, thanking him endlessly. He said it was no problem, that this one was on the house, and that you were welcome whenever.

He didn’t really expect to see you again. It was very common at The Beef for random people to come in once (especially if they were hungover, Mikey swore that the place was some sort of magnet), and he assumed you’d be the same.

He was very delighted to be wrong.

You kept coming in regularly, three or four times a week. Quickly, Michael had started to memorize your routine from the brief conversations you’d have (he’d sometimes sit with you as you ate). You’d come in hungover some Mondays, for your lunch break on Wednesday, after work on Thursday and, if he was lucky, at a random time on Saturday just because.

Some could say he was developing an almost embarrassing crush on his regular he’d befriended. They would be very right.

On this Saturday, The Beef was particularly empty, and when you came in, and Michael was so grateful to the lack of customers around. You smiled when you saw him and waved, and god, he pretty much melted at the spot. He waved back and without you asking, started to prepare a sandwich for you, saying “Get inside, sit down, I’ll be there.”

You followed his instructions with a laugh and went inside to sit down at a table. He came back with the sandwich a few minutes later, set it down on your table and sat down on the table next to yours, turning his body to face yours. You thanked him and angled your body to face his as you took a first bite out of your sandwich. He chuckled at your exaggerated-for-his-benefit expressions before speaking.

“So, how’s your day been, huh?”