As they arrived at the storage area, Diane parked the truck just outside. She eyed the closed rolling steel door and said, “Oh, god... am I really too early?” She contemplated calling the guard, hoping they could open it up for her.
While Diane hesitated, Mark found himself lost in thought, an indescribable feeling slowly growing inside him—a strange sense of familiarity wrapped in mystery.
Before Diane could pull out her phone to make the call, they suddenly heard a rattling, chain-like sound. The door creaked, slowly rising like a heavy curtain being lifted.
The metal groaned until it was fully open, revealing a lean teenager with half-combed brown hair, squinting at them through the light.
“Finally, some fresh air,” the young man muttered. He wore a teal T-shirt and dark shorts, holding a remote with a single big red button at its center, attached to a wire leading to the wall.
He blinked a few times, realizing who was standing there. “Oh, hey, Miss Diane. I thought the delivery was scheduled for the afternoon?” His brow furrowed in confusion.
Diane smiled, relieved to see someone familiar. “Hey there, Kevin! Yeah, it was supposed to be later, but I’ve got something to do this afternoon, so I asked Mrs. Smith if I could drop it off early. She said it was fine.”
Kevin scratched his head. “Huh, that’s weird. Nobody told us. Maybe she forgot to inform the staff.”
“Makes sense,” Diane nodded. “That’s probably why the door was closed. I messaged Mrs. Smith pretty late last night, so maybe it slipped her mind.”
Kevin shrugged. “I guess so. Anyway, since you’re here, let’s start unloading.” He turned to help but then stopped. “Oh, right! I almost forgot—I need to throw out some garbage, or else Annie will chew me out again.” He rolled his eyes.
“Don’t worry about it,” Diane chuckled. “We’ve got it covered. Right, Mark?”
Mark nodded, “Yeah, we got this.”
Kevin gave Mark a quick nod before turning back to the pile of trash bags on a pushcart. He positioned himself behind it, slightly struggling to get it moving. “Need a hand?” Mark offered.
Kevin shook his head with a determined grin. “Nah, I got it. If my gym buddies hear I needed help moving garbage, I’ll never live it down. They’ll be like, ‘Kevin, dude, are you really out here getting saved by strangers to just throw the trash? We taught you better!’”
Mark laughed. “Yeah, can’t have that. Wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation.”
“Exactly! It’s a delicate balance,” Kevin said with mock seriousness, straining to push the heavy cart. “One minute, you’re bench-pressing with the squad. Next, you’re the ‘trash guy’ who can’t handle a pushcart. It’s a slippery slope, man.”
Mark shook his head, amused. “Sounds like tough love.”
Kevin nodded sagely. “Oh yeah, brutal. But, you know, that's the price of greatness.”
Mark chuckled and stepped back, letting Kevin have his moment. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll stick to crates.”
Turning their attention back to the truck, Mark saw the dozen or so plastic crates neatly stacked in the back. “You sure you wanna help with these?” he asked skeptically. “They look pretty heavy.”
Diane shot him a playful side-eye. “What, you think I’m too weak to lift a crate? Come on, I’ve been doing this for years.” She flexed her arm, but the bulge in her bicep was, well, modest at best.
YOU ARE READING
Summertime Saga: New Life, New Saga
FanfictionIn "New Life, New Saga," Mark finds himself unexpectedly transported into the vibrant world of Summertime Saga, a place where characters are more than just pixels on a screen-they're living, breathing individuals with emotions and destinies. As he n...
