“Bro, you coming this weekend or what? We were able to book the cabin, it’s going to be great!” said the first text. Followed by another two that read, “Don’t say work again.” and “Just call in sick, you need this.”
Andrew stared at the screen a few seconds longer than he should’ve, then turned it face-down on the counter. He imagined snow on pine trees, the scent of firewood, laughter that echoed off the walls. But even that daydream came with a price tag.
He couldn’t miss a shift. Not when one night out could mean delaying rent to his parents. Not when groceries were already being rationed. His friends knew his situation, but they didn’t feel it. They didn’t lie awake doing mental math at 2 a.m. to figure out whether they could afford shampoo and gas in the same week.
He tightened his apron, squared his shoulders, and stepped back out into the dining area. The café floor was already heating up. Saturday crowds always brought chaos—families, couples, tourists, people scrolling their phones and forgetting the world around them.