First Shift Jitters

Marcus's first day at FoodMart wasn't exactly the confidence booster he'd hoped for. His orange uniform vest made him look like a traffic cone, and his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"You're on produce," said Tyler, the assistant manager with way too much hair gel. "Don't mess it up."

Marcus stared at the spinach display, already wilting in the fluorescent lights. He'd barely arranged the first pile when Maya walked in. She was in his biology class, sitting two rows ahead, somehow making listening to lectures about cell membranes look aesthetic. Her laugh echoed across the store.

Then came the cable guy. Literally. A Comcast technician with a clipboard and zero patience, looking for the manager's office. Marcus pointed toward the back, but his finger accidentally knocked over an entire pyramid of spinach bags. They cascaded everywhere—across the floor, under the nearby vitamin display, into the aisle where Maya was now definitely watching.

"Nice one, Traffic Cone," Tyler called from the deli counter.

Marcus's face burned hotter than the store's rotisserie. But then Maya was there, helping him gather the scattered bags. Her sneaker was a cool teal against his generic black work shoes.

"First job?" she asked, not unkindly.

He nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

"Everyone messes up their first week," she said, placing the last spinach bag in his hands. "Even Tyler. He cried when he dropped a jar of pickles last month."

She winked and walked away, leaving him with something lighter than the spinach in his arms. Maybe being a traffic cone wasn't so bad. At least people saw you coming.