ME & HIM ✔︎

8

UPDATED

Los Angeles is busy, always teeming with life, a stark contrast to the languid pace of Florida. While Florida is undeniably hotter, there's an ache in my chest that lingers, reminding me of home. I can't deny that I miss it. Here, I made a strong impression on everyone—at least, that's what I wanted them to think. I buried my misery beneath layers of forced smiles and laughter, even managing to fool Clarissa into believing I was thriving in this new place. I had told myself, "New home, new me." I didn't want her to worry, but at night, when the world grew quiet, I'd find myself weeping away my pain, rage, and depression.

I miss my family. Sure, Ariana and Clarissa are here, and they're wonderful in their own ways, but it's not the same. I miss Mom and Dad. I miss Travis and our nightly dinners where we'd share stories about our day. I miss the warmth of his presence when he would peek into my room, checking up on me, ensuring I was alright.

Now, I find myself alone, eating in bed while the world outside continues to spin. It feels like I have company with Ariana and Clarissa, but the loneliness is suffocating. Clarissa works most days and often doesn't come home until one in the morning. When she's awake, I'm at school, and by the time I return, she's already off to work again. Ariana has tried out for the basketball team, leaving me to drift through my afternoons while she's at practice.

I'm too drained to try anything for myself. The thought of drawing again feels foreign, even though people used to say I had a gift. I abandoned it all after Mom and Dad died. Everything I once loved slipped away, replaced by a void filled with reading and sleeping—mostly sleeping. Sleep has become my refuge, a temporary escape from the pain.

Finally, it's Saturday, and I've been toying with the idea of getting a job. A part-time position sounds like a lifeline right now. I want to help Clarissa with the bills, to ease some of her burdens, and maybe even buy my own lunch instead of relying on her generosity. She keeps insisting I shouldn't worry about it, but that only adds to my discomfort. I hate feeling like a burden.

As I wander near the corner of a quieter street, a rich aroma wafts toward me, stirring my senses. I spot a restaurant with a brightly lit exterior, the bold red letters spelling out "FELIX." My eyes are drawn to a small note written in elegant cursive in the corner of the window: Staff wanted!

A smile breaks across my face as I step inside, pulling my headphones from my ears.

"Good morning, hello!" A beautiful woman greets me from behind the counter, her smile warm and inviting.

I take in the cozy atmosphere, appreciating the well-arranged decor before approaching the counter. "Morning," I reply, matching her smile.

"What would you like to order?" she asks, gesturing to the menu overhead.

I shake my head, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Actually, I'm not here to order. You've got a lovely restaurant."

"Thank you!" She scrutinizes me for a moment. My hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and I'm wearing minimal makeup, not exactly the polished look I should have gone for when seeking a job. "What brings you in?"

"I wanted to apply for a job here—"

"If you'd like, the job is yours," she interrupts, her tone light and playful.

I blink in disbelief. "You're not serious," I stutter, caught off guard by her easy offer. A hiring process usually entails interviews and evaluations. This is unheard of.

She laughs, clearly amused by my surprise. "You seem like a sweet girl. I've been looking for someone who would fit well here, and you seem to be that person."