The night goes on. And there's still…
I check my watch: it's eleven-thirty.
One hour left. Good—less than there was an hour ago.
I felt a stare from the far corner of the minimarket. From the register.
Is he trying to make his feelings for me obvious?
Ever since I kicked that drunk guy out, he hasn't stopped watching me—even when I'm restocking on the other side of the room.
Still watching.
I guess I earned his respect…
Or his love.
I hope it's the first one.
Now that I think about it, with everything that happened, I forgot this guy was the "rich family" guy.
I left the snack cart and walked toward him.
Now I wasn't breaking eye contact either.
I saw a flicker of nervousness in his face.
"Darion?" I said, hoping he'd anticipate the question.
"Y-yeah."
Did he stutter?
Interesting.
"The other day you said your family had status or something. So why are you working here?"
If he's got money, he should be sleeping peacefully. Why is he here on the night shift?
He looked surprised.
"I…"
Is he really going to tell me? Just like that?
"None of your business," he said, opening the register.
Shit.
Guess it wasn't going to be that easy.
He looked at me while counting bills.
"My father got sick…"
Nice. I made a little celebration face. In my head.
"It's just him and me. He's in bad shape…"
And?
"I have no idea how to run the family business, and I'm not allowed access to the accounts. That doesn't mean I'm broke—I just needed a distraction," he said, organizing the bills.
Oh.
So he does have a backstory.
I figured he would.
No one pretends to be a megalomaniac for no reason.
"I see," I said, and went back to what I was doing.
"You see?" he asked, somewhere between angry and sad. "You obviously don't see."
I looked at him seriously.
…
There was a flicker of silence. Not awkward. Vulnerable.
"I see you."
Tiinn.
Aito…
Aito…
Brother?
Tiinnn.
Tannn.
Tiinnn.
Ta—
I turned off the alarm.
Shit.
That same dream again.
I check the clock: ten-thirty!
I oversle—
Wait…
It's Sunday.
I sighed.
Lay back down, relaxed. For a moment I thought I'd fall asleep again.
Closed my eyes.
…
Now I can't sleep.
What do I do?
I stared at the ceiling, waiting for an answer.
…
Guess I'll get dressed and go skate.
Washed my face, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and left without eating.
I'll buy something when I get hungry.
Kick.
The dream's been showing up more often lately. I don't know why.
Kick.
Maybe it's something around me.
Kick.
Or the drastic change in environment I've had lately.
Kick.
People are getting clos—
My meditation was interrupted by…
drumroll…
A rock in the road. Literally.
The terror of every skater.
A tiny rock.
The board stopped cold.
I didn't.
I flew forward, arms flailing for balance mid-air.
Useless. Impact. Shoulder first, then hip.
"Ouch… shit," I groaned, rolling until I ended up flat on my back on the sidewalk.
My skateboard kept rolling a few more meters, mocking me.
I could just close my eyes and nap right here.
Just for a moment.
It's not like I sleep much lately, and this spot feels… warm.
Gravity did its job.
I made a fool of myself.
And now my shoulder has a toxic relationship with the pavement.
…
Huh?
Is that… blackberry shampoo I smell?
"Aito?"
A distant voice.
"Aito?"
What? Why? I'm awake.
Does her voice echo in my head even when I'm not sleeping? Torturous.
"Aito?! Are you okay?" said a high-pitched but adorable voice.
Eyes half-closed. Barely able to open them.
Lina was leaning over me, worried.
Hm? Lina? What's she doing here?
The sun shone behind her.
"Am I dying and God sent an angel?" I said in a dramatic tone, still dizzy.
Guess I can play dumb a little.
"What?" she laughed, fitting her existence—still giggling, hand over her mouth.
I guess the fall was worth it.
"Lina? What are you doing here?" I asked out loud this time.
She looked at me, puzzled.
"I live here. The real question is: what are you doing lying on the sidewalk? People walk here."
"I, uh… I like sleeping in the street sometimes."
She looked at me. Not skeptical.
"How funny," she said, sarcastically.
Interesting.
She's not as shy as she is at university.
She said she lives around here, so maybe being in her comfort zone makes her… more confident.
Curious.
"You said you live nearby?"
"Yup," she pointed at a giant bread sign right behind her.
A bakery? Is it her family's? Does she work there?
"It's what you're thinking. It's my family's bakery and also my home. Want to come in?" she asked with a warm smile I obviously couldn't refuse.
"Sure," I stood up and grabbed my skateboard, just a few inches away.
We walked to the door.
Tin Tin
This doorbell sounds more comforting for some reason.
The smell of fresh bread came out like a fragrance with arms, gently grabbed me by the neck and pulled me inside like it knew I wouldn't resist.
Smells amazing. And I'm hungry. This is perfect.
Grrruuump.
Shit.
Lina, who was ahead of me, turned around with a mischievous smile. Small, but obvious.
She's weird.
"Hungry?" she asked as if one of the trumpets of the apocalypse hadn't just sounded.
I looked at her, not wanting to answer.
She clearly wants me to ask. Just look at her face.
"A-a little," I said reluctantly.
Ouch, there goes the last shred of pride I had.
"Then follow me," she said, walking quickly toward a door beside a counter covered by a cloth.
Grrruuump.
Oof.
"Behold!" she said, pulling the cloth.
The cloth dropped and the air changed instantly.
It no longer smelled like bread—it smelled like temptation.
A long table, covered with a slightly wrinkled cloth, was full of things clearly designed to destroy diets and self-control.
Cakes with glaze so shiny it looked waxed.
Cookies stacked like someone tried building a city with them.
An orange sponge cake with a surface so perfect it looked ironed by someone with OCD and free time.
There was something with cream—I don't know what—but the cream was so white and still it looked like snow waiting to be stepped on.
And my stomach, instead of roaring like a monster, let out a sound that felt like an existential complaint: "Are you seriously just going to look?"
I swallowed.
Lina didn't even look at me.
She just said:
"Pick quickly, before they get cold."
I froze.
"I… I'm indecisive," I said, staring at the absurd amount of pastries.
A diabetic's paradise.
"Mmm," she put a finger to her chin, thinking. "I recommend this one. Here, I'll give you one," she said, handing me what looked like a sandwich.
Sweet dough. Round, imperfect curves but well aligned.
Fresh from the oven. Slight toasted scent.
Chocolate coating. A hole in the center.
Pale yellow on one side. Deep chestnut brown on the other.
Pastry cream and dulce de leche. The perfect combo.
The yin and yang of sweetness.
In my hands.
I can't stop the drool from slipping past my lips.
"Aito?"
"Huh?... Sorry, I got a little mesmerized… it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Does it have a name?" I asked, still staring at the "giant glazed donut."
"No specific name. We just call it giant glazed donut."
Ha.
"You've never had one before?" Lina asked, tilting her head like she was wondering, "Does he even leave his house?"
Or that's how I interpreted it.
"Well, I usually don't have the money for these luxuries. I avoid looking at shops like this to avoid cravings," I said, bringing it closer.
Ahm.
The top sinks easily.
The cream escapes.
The dulce de leche hits first, then the chocolate.
All warm, all soft.
I close my eyes.
Not for style. Out of necessity.
I feel like crying and laughing at the same time.
This isn't food.
It's an emotional slap.
"This is the best thing I've ever tasted," I said, eyes still closed.
In a long time.
"I'm glad you like it," she smiled warmly.
"How much do I owe you?"
This must be expensive. It's worth it.
She looked at me, blinking several times on purpose.
"It's free. I told you to take it, didn't I?"
"Free?" I squinted at her. "Seriously?"
"Yes. If you want, I can give you another to take home," she said, grabbing a paper bag from the stack behind her.
…
"Also free?" I asked, like a squirrel.
"Hahaha," she laughed, covering her mouth. "You really do sound like a squirrel."
She packed the pastry in the bag.
"You like sweets, Aito?" she asked, handing me the bag.
I love them. I'm weak for such treats.
"Yes, a lot. You could say they're in my top five favorite things."
"You have a top five? You don't seem like that kind of person."
Then what kind of person do I seem like?
"Yes, like everyone, I have favorite and non-favorite things. I also have a brain," I said, finishing the last bite.
She looked at me.
"Hmm… you're right."
Tin tin.
Our conversation was interrupted by the door.
Was it closed? The owner?
I turned around.
An older lady, with a cane.
Hair like… how to say it… cauliflower.
Her wrinkled face wasn't ugly. On the contrary, it could be considered adorable.
Like all she did was sit and sip tea—
"Elinais!"
What?
Elinais?
I looked at Lina, who covered her face with both hands, blushing.
"I told you to open the shop, not feed vagabonds again!"
Surprising and interesting.
"Now you're bringing them inside?! I told you they