Rainy Days

04

Emilia

Lazy rays stretch into the train, drawing a hazy curtain over the skyline. Clouds turn into fluffs of cotton candy as the sun peeks out above the window, bobbing with the sway of the subway car. Saturday mornings are one of those things you find yourself falling in love with even though it's a sad type of love, the type that reminds you nothing lasts long enough. But with everything slipping away, what can you do besides hold onto anything you can?

The girls on my left jab at their phones furiously, their voices barely containing their excitement about some boy band. The man by the sliding doors rocks a navy blue blazer, boasting a new job to his friend. I try to pretend I have someone beside me, too. But who am I kidding? Even at school, I was lying to myself.

Did you make any friends today? Mom would ask me when I still went to school.

When she was still alive.

I always dipped my head and nodded, afraid of telling the truth, thinking it would make her happier.

But then she died.

Be my therapist and tell me I'm being hard on myself, but it doesn't change the fact she's not here. You can forgive others, but yourself? It's like trying to say everything's fine when your world is falling apart.

I rub my shoulder, letting my thoughts drift to the boy I ran over earlier. I nearly missed the train helping him, but then again, I had caused the mess in the first place, just like a dozen times before. But he hadn't yelled at me or demanded to pay for damages. It was like he didn't even care. Was he worried about me?

I flush, swatting at my head as if I can shoo the little demons away. There was something familiar in his eyes, though. An idle gaze masked behind fake smiles and sleepless nights.

"Line 2 will be stopping momentarily. As you exit, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the train..." I drone out the intercom as the train shifts back and forth to a stop, adjust my cap, and step out the sliding doors.

The once bustling streets seem to have been worn down after a long night, the grumble of cars and quiet footsteps filling the sleepy air as I walk to the restaurant. The lines are gone, and it looks like a proper place for once.

"Morning, Emilia." Hina murmurs, lips tracing the rim of a cappuccino. There's always free coffee—another perk of working at McDonald's.

"Good morning," I say.

I join her behind the counter and fix myself a mocha latte, drizzling a dab of chocolate syrup over the fluffy whipped cream. This is heaven. A sigh escapes my lips as the steamed espresso coats my throat in warm chocolate.

"Anyways, you're working in the kitchen today," Hina says.

"This isn't because of yesterday, is it?" I look up from the cash register and she sighs.

"Look, I've... taken care of the customer so it won't happen to you or anybody else again." she laughs, leaving the rest to my imagination. Knowing Hina, it could be a simple phone call to publicly humiliating them in front of a crowd of shameless 9 to 5 workers—both equally terrorizing.

Her voice softens. "You're a hard worker, maybe even more than me. You deserve a break."

"But—"

Hina puts a finger to my lips. "That's an order. Now go, Ken will set you up with the preparation work."

I nod and down the rest of the coffee, letting it work its magic with my body. My dreary eyes snap open, my caffeine-doused mind ready to gobble up any order.