❛ swear to god we put em in the pound
and this shit won't stop like fuck what the opps
say, yeah. they shot. only love for my niggas
the ones from my block. ❜
𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒
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𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓, 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟒, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒
The dinner rush at the restaurant was winding down, but Paris's shift felt endless. Her feet ached, and the fake smile she'd been wearing all evening was starting to slip.
She balanced a tray of plates as she maneuvered between tables, clearing dishes and refilling glasses with the kind of efficient skill that took months to master.
"Paris, table four's asking for the check," her coworker called.
"Got it," she replied, exhaling sharply.
It wasn't glamorous work, but it paid the bills, and Paris preferred the structured chaos of the restaurant to the aimless noise of her old life.
Here, she could focus on keeping busy and not think about the things – or people – she'd left behind.
She was almost done wiping down a booth when a shadow fell over her. Standing up straight, Paris turned toward the figure looming near the entrance, her heart freezing mid-beat.
Efrem.
She blinked, trying to process the sight of him standing there in his oversized hoodie, hands shoved into his pockets. He looked out of place under the dim restaurant lights, his hood shadowing most of his face, but she'd know him anywhere.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice ruder than she intended.
Efrem's lips twitched, almost like he was about to smirk, but the expression didn't stick. His eyes, tired and heavy, locked onto hers.
"I need to talk to you." he put it simply.
Paris's coworker appeared behind her, eyeing Efrem in a more suspicious manner. "You good, Paris?"
She hesitated, torn between brushing Efrem off and hearing him out. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said finally. "Just give me a minute."
The coworker left reluctantly, and Paris turned back to Efrem, crossing her arms. "You see I'm working, Efrem. Whatever you need to say, it'll have to wait."
"I'll wait," he then moved to an empty booth.
She sighed, knowing she should tell him to leave but just not finding the strength to do it. "Fine. I get off in a hour."
By the time her shift ended, Paris was drained, but Efrem was still there, sitting in the corner booth with his hood up, staring out the window.
"You're persistent, I'll give you that," she said as she walked up to him.
Efrem stood, towering over her as he pulled his hood back some. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"
"Talk about what?" she was skeptical to say the least.
