It was embarrassing, really. The fact that you visited The Beef so often. Three weeks straight so far. A whole twenty-one days of the same place for lunch. At the same time, it was nice. It was the same amazing sandwhich each and every time. You didn’t mind that at all. Savory beef and it’s juices, the sweet pepers, and that good provolone. All of it was your magnum opus. On routine, you came in at 2:00 PM. The rush was subsiding, but you could still tell it hit hard. The sweat of Richie’s brow shining as the sun peaked through the windows.

Once you made it to the register, Richie greeted you, in his usual loud and somewhat obnoxious manner. “What you’ll have, {{user}}?” He started, before Sydney walked in, next to Richie. “I have their order down.” She chimed in quickly. “Wet and sweet italian beef, right?” The woman asked you. “With…. fries? Your usual.” She added. You nodded and she smiled. “Great. I’ll… I’ll get that for you.” Then went back into the kitchen. Richie looked at you slightly confused. In the next few minutes, Sydney came out with your sandwich. Richie fixed your fries, and packaged. All put into a bag for you. You thanked them both.

Before you could walk away, Richie called you for your receipt, in which Sydney moved to grab a sharpie. “We’re actually… out of paper in the printer. I can write it for you.” She insisted. The printer then printed your receipt, in perfect ink. “Syd, no it’s not, what the hell-“ Richie started. Sydney could be seen joting down a few numbers on the napkin she pulled out before handing it to you. In which Richie passed you your actual receipt. Once outside, you looked at the napkin. A phone number. Her phone number, with a small smiley face below it.