The city felt colder in the morning.
Elara stood outside the café, rubbing her hands together and staring at the little chalkboard sign that read:
"HIRING – No experience necessary. Good vibes required."
Good vibes? She could fake those. Maybe.
She hadn't eaten in two days, and her last dollar had gone toward the cheapest soap she could find. Her suitcase was locked in a hostel closet she couldn't afford to extend, and the job boards she'd checked were filled with scams or "modeling opportunities" that made her stomach churn.
She took a deep breath. Just walk in. Smile. Pretend you belong.
The bell above the café door jingled as she stepped inside.
Warmth. Coffee. Music playing softly from an old speaker. It was the first place in Veridale that didn't feel like it wanted to spit her back out. Behind the counter stood a girl with pink-streaked hair, dark eyeliner, and a tattoo of a treble clef on her wrist. She was boxing muffins while mouthing lyrics under her breath. Elara cleared her throat. "Hi. Um… I saw the sign outside." The girl looked up, sizing her up with a single glance—but not unkindly. "You look like you haven't slept and might faint if I sneeze too hard."Elara flushed. "I—uh—had a long night."
"Rough city," the girl said, grabbing a croissant and sliding it across the counter. "Eat first. Then we talk."
Elara hesitated. "I don't—"
"It's on the house. I'm Maya."
"Elara," she said quietly, fingers trembling as she picked up the croissant. "Thank you."
Maya watched her devour the flaky pastry in record time. She didn't ask questions, but something in her expression softened.
"You sing?"
Elara blinked, mid-bite. "How did you—"
"You've got the look. And that lost-but-hungry artist energy." Maya grinned. "I used to be like that. Still am, some days."
"I haven't sung in a while," Elara admitted, voice low.
"Well, you're in the right café. The manager's chill. If you're not an axe murderer and can hold a tray, you've probably got the job. But you'll need sass. You got any?"
Elara tried to smile. "I can fake it" Maya smirked. "Good enough. Come in tomorrow at 8. I'll show you the ropes. Try not to pass out on a customer."
That night, Elara returned to her hostel with something she hadn't carried in weeks: hope.
She didn't know that Maya Chen was known on a first-name basis inside Nova Records. Or that her new friend had unknowingly delivered coffee to the man whose voice haunted her dreams.
But she'd found warmth. A job. A chance.
And maybe… just maybe… a reason to stay.