Another frustrating day being the waitress, the cashier, and janitor in their family’s restaurant. As the clock is approaching the closing hour, their father shouts from the kitchen for them to begin putting up the chairs.

They wipe sweat off their forehead, when a boy approaches them.

“Sorry,” he says rather sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you’re busy and all…”

He looks away for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Sorry. I was saying, can I have your number?