oh my god, they were neighbors

slurpees and palomas

The next day at work, Ezra couldn't really help but let his mind wander around what had happened the day before, and what might happen at the bar in the evening. He wasn't trying to warm to Mateo like he had—he was honestly content on his own, fully—but maybe the lack of a real friend in his life had made him a bit desperate. All his friends were back in sad, flat Kansas. He didn't miss much about his hometown or his home state, and he genuinely preferred the hell of Santa Monica to the hell of Atchison, but his past was stuck in that shitty, 1860s novelty shop of a town. And he was here, far away from it.

He guessed the beginning of the end was when he moved to San Diego to go to college. The end, finale, true and all, was when he went home for Christmas break his junior year and told his family everything. That was the last time he saw anyone from Atchison, who, at that point, had already seemed foreign to him. He didn't know what the town knew about him, but he guessed his mother was still a gossip and his dad was still an asshole, and that everyone knew everything. But nobody ever tried to contact him, so it didn't matter, and he was speculating, and he should really just stock the damn iced tea.

"You look upset," Jessie said, startling the hell out of Ezra. She was working the afternoon shift after her morning classes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ezra answered, but he wasn't sure he was being honest. "Just thinking."

"Well, don't overdo it." Jessie smiled. "I'm in a great mood. I was worried about my test, but I think I sorted it out."

"That's good."

"Yeah." Jessie reached into the cold box next to the one Ezra was stocking and grabbed an iced tea. "Mmm, raspberry. You think I should have this, or an Arnold Palmer? Or do I go get a slurpee? Decisions, decisions."

Ezra kept stocking. "I don't know."

This frustrated Jessie, who set the iced tea off to the side and crossed her arms. "What is wrong with you?"

Finally, Ezra stopped stocking and looked at Jessie.

"I don't know," he said. "What's wrong with me?"

"You're always blanking out," Jessie said. "I, well...I worry about you. You're my favorite coworker."

He could tell. "Sorry. I don't mean to."

"I know you don't," she sighed. "I just wish you'd tell me what's bothering you. So, you know, I could at least like, try to help you?"

"Nothing's bothering me, Jessie," he said. He felt decent enough to keep stocking. "I'm perfectly fine. I told you—I'm just thinking, okay?"

"You're a shitty liar."

Ezra couldn't believe Jessie, who was pretty tightly-wound and a golden child by every standard he could think of, had just said that. It's always the ones you least expect, he decided. His shock caused him to crack a grin.

"I know," he said, smiling at her. "Get the slurpee. Blue."

She didn't seem totally satisfied, but the smile must've at least gotten her off his back. "Okay, I trust you. Slurpee time."

"Slurpee time," Ezra agreed, and he kept doing his job.

The tamales from the night before had basically been a dream, and tonight, he'd woken up to his reality: another pack of InstaNoodles. But when he got home from work, he saw a few small bags of ingredients, each painstakingly labeled with a marker, all tucked neatly into a small saucepan and set in front of his door. Minced garlic, green onion, cooked mushrooms, and...red chili flakes? There was also a small note taped to one of the bags.