I step out of the manager’s office, my chest tight, breath shaky like I’ve been holding it all shift. My locker looks emptier than I remembered. Just a few things crammed inside, all of them pulled out in seconds—no sentimental goodbyes. No one would notice I’m gone, anyway.
I move quietly through the back hallway, eyes on the exit, hoping to slip away without another word. The air feels heavy, like I’m already a ghost here.
Alexander’s words won’t stop replaying in my head.
You work there again, I’ll burn the place down.
The way he said it—it wasn’t a threat. It was the truth. Cold, final, like gravity pulling me down. And instead of fear, it left me rattled in a way I can’t name. I didn’t even argue. I just came here to quit, like the decision had already been made for me.
I’m only a few steps from my bike when my name cuts through the air.
“Lucas!”
I freeze, then turn. Megan jogs toward me, apron stained with coffee, hair falling into her face. Her eyes soften the second they land on me.
“You’re actually quitting?” she asks, a little out of breath.
I hesitate, then nod.
Her brows pinch together, concern flickering across her face. She exhales, like she’s trying to catch words that won’t come.
“You… found a better job?”
It takes me a moment before I sign, “Something like that.”
Her eyes drop to my hands, then lift again. She smiles faintly, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. Megan’s the only one here who bothered to learn my language, who tried. Her father and younger sister are Deaf—it made her patient in a way the others never were.
“Will you be okay?” she signs, her fingers a little shaky, but still clear.
I shrug. The truth is, I don’t know. But I offer a small smile anyway, just to ease the crease in her forehead.
She exhales again, shoulders dropping. “Work will be so stressful without you,” she says. “I wish it were Jeremy who quit instead. The bastard didn’t even show up today—called him all morning, and he’s still ignoring me.”
I huff softly, not surprised. Jeremy was always skipping shifts, leaving me to pick up the pieces. I won’t miss his face. Not even a little.
Megan shifts her weight, takes a small step closer. Then she signs slowly, carefully,
“I’ll miss you.”
Something catches in my chest, and I beam at her.
“I’ll miss you, too.” I sign back.
We stand there longer than we should, silence stretching like it wants to hold us. Finally, I lift a hand in a wave, swing a leg over my bike, and push off.
The road stretches out before me, cool air biting against my cheeks. My chest still feels heavy, but somewhere inside me, there’s the slightest flicker of anticipation.
I have a picnic to set up.
***
I pick at the corner of the picnic mat absentmindedly as Tyler uncaps a bottle of soda and hands it to me with a grin.
Finally, after years of saying we should do this sometime, we’re here. The sun is low but not setting yet. Golden light pools over the lake like melted honey, the kind of lighting that makes everything look a little softer.
We sit in silence for a while, unwrapping sandwiches and tearing open bags of chips. Tyler leans back, watching the ducks glide over the water like he’s trying to memorize the moment.
I try to do the same. But my thoughts… they scatter.
