Where He Walks

Alone

I am not depressed.
I am not depressed.
I am not depressed.

I am lonely, I am bored, I am alone, I am stressed. Why can no one understand that? Why can no one understand me?

I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I grabbed the cup of coffee from the barista. "Thanks Mrs. Lanc."

The gray-haired woman nodded at me as I pulled out my wallet, several coins falling out. I panicked slightly as I bent down to get them, wishing this wasn't happening,"I'm sorry." Always in public places, hm?

"No, it's okay Evan. That one's on the house," The old woman smiled. I looked up at her,"No, I can't. This is the fourth one, in a row."

"Evan," She sighed. "Please, let me pay for it," I pleaded, digging through my wallet and grabbing several paper bills. I pulled them out and set them on the counter,"Here."

"This is twenty-six dollars more than I need," She muttered, pushing the extra money back at me. I gripped the dollars and put them back quickly,"Thank you."

She sighed again,"You're welcome, Evan. Look, you've been coming here for years, you're practically my son, and I'm worried about you."

I shook my head and suppressed a small smile,"I'm fine, Mrs. Lanc."

She gave me a pitying frown. No, I hate it when people pity me. "Evan-"

"Don't. Please, just don't. I don't want a job here, I'm doing great, just... I'm on a rocky road right now."

She closed her mouth and her eyes for a moment before smiling at me again,"Okay. As long as you're fine."

"I am," I assured before giving her the brightest smile I could muster,"So, are you coming to the game next week?"

"I never miss em', I'll just have to make sure the old man in the back is coming too."

The door to the kitchen opened and a man, around his 70's hobbled to next to his wife. "You called, Miranda?" The old woman gave a giggle,"Oh shut up, Huck. Evan wants to know if we're going to the game on Wednesday?"

The man, Huck, nodded at me,"Of course. When don't we go?"

I smiled, these people were like my parents. They had been for years, at least, since my real ones moved away. That was years ago, though. I love my real parents, we just haven't talked as much as we should on a regular basis. I remember the good days, back when I still lived at home, me and my dad throwing snowballs at each other, or ice skating with my mom and then going home to hot chocolate and-

"Evan?"

I looked at Miranda, slightly confused. I realized I had gotten lost in my own world again and frowned. I had been doing that a lot lately. It was routine now.

"I'm sorry. What we're you saying?"

She frowned at me for a moment before perking back up,"We told you that we're thinking about retiring, and that we wanted you to run the business for us."

I stared at the two of them for a long time before speaking up. "I-I can't," I stuttered, holding the coffee close to my chest. "I have a career, guys. I can't just drop it."

My job wasn't the only thing holding me back, so was my social anxiety. It took me forever to get used to all the guys on my team. I still struggle on the ice when I think about all the people watching me, counting on me.

The two both glanced at each other before Miranda placed her hands on my shoulders,"Evan, we understand. This place'll be waiting for you when you make your decision."