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I am just getting out of class when my phone buzzes. I juggle with my English Comp I textbook and notes as I look to see who's calling. I answer."Hello?""Hey Courtney, you free this evening?" It's my coworker Dynese."Why do you ask?" I say instead of answering right away. Of course, I already know without being told, but I don't want to make it easy for her, especially when I don't want to do it. Dynese only calls me for one thing and one thing only: a shift change. And this is the sixth time this month she's called me."My babysitter said she couldn't come in at the last minute, and I have no one to watch the kiddo. I tried asking my mom and dad, but they said no. I really hate to ask this, as I know this is the sixth time and all, but -"I sigh. "Yeah, sure, I'll cover you." It's not like I have anything else planned for today. Nothing important, anyway.I can hear Dynese smiling over the phone. "Oh my gosh, girl, you're the best! I promise I'll make it up to you next paycheck." I grimace. She said that last time. Not that I need anything, but I wish she wouldn't say stuff like that and then never own up to it. But maybe that's just me being extra."What time is your shift?" I ask her."3:00 to 9:20." Ah, she's closing tonight. Of course."Call up the big man and let him know I'll be covering," I say."Will do." She thanks me again before hanging up.I purse my lips. Well, there goes Taco Night and watching Netflix.When I get home, I take a few minutes to wind down before getting back up to clean the mess my roommate left the night before. Usually, there are no issues between us (mostly because she's hardly here), but I am contemplating speaking up about the obvious beer stains that were left on the couch cushions in the living room and the pile of half-eaten dishes left in the kitchen sink. Who all did she invite over here last night? Did she feed a whole football team? Because at 10 o'clock the night before, everything here had been spotless, and the apartment had been empty beside me. That sleep medicine I took before bed must have had me dead to the world because I didn't even hear anyone come in last night. Surely I would have, with all this junk everywhere. But that's not what pisses me off the most.I pick up the broken picture frame of me and my little brother that was abandoned on the floor. Someone must have accidentally knocked it off its place on the living room entertainment center. A crack runs across me and my brother's smiling faces. It's the last picture I have of us together before he got so sick.He's holding a basketball as he beams at the camera. His team won that day, and he was so proud that he scored several points. He said he was happy to be following in my footsteps.Emotion overcomes me at seeing the crack over his grinning face, and I bite down on my lip. That's when I hear my roommate's bedroom door opening-speak of the devil."Hey," she says nonchalantly as she walks past the trash all over the floor and the now halfway-cleaned kitchen (courtesy of me) to head for our shared bathroom, acting as if our apartment doesn't look trashed. Oh, good Lord. I hadn't even considered looking in the bathroom. Not looking forward to that."What happened here last night?" I demand. "You throw a party or something? You know the rules. We tell each other before bringing others over, and we promise to clean up once we're done."She enters the bathroom without answering me. That's ok; I'm determined to wait. It takes her 30 minutes. By the time she gets out, I've finished cleaning the kitchen.She heads back to her room without even glancing at me."Hey!" I call after her. "Are you ignoring me?""Obviously," she answers. She enters her room and closes the door. I hear the lock click. My jaw clenches. I go up to her door."Wow, you don't have to be so rude, you know?""I'll clean it later. I've got a headache." She groans exasperatedly. "And stop being so loud. Damn. It's not like your fat ass hasn't left a mess in the kitchen before. With all those ice cream buckets and cookie wrappers."My face heats up, and I am left speechless. That was an outright lie; I've always cleaned up after myself. Unless she's talking about that one time the garbage can was overfilled with my leftover snacks. That was a particularly bad night for me. Binge eating 101. But still, the junk was in the can! Not left out everywhere! And I took it out by the next day! Her dig at my weight and bad eating habits suddenly makes me feel tired, though, so I leave her alone. Whatever. The couches are technically hers anyway. If she wants them soaked in beer, let them be left like that. I ain't cleaning them.I glance at the time and see I have a little over an hour to make it to the coffee stand. I take a little birdbath, throw on my apron and uniform, and grab my purse. Before I head out, I carefully remove the picture of me and my brother from the broken frame and place it on my bedroom dresser. I will buy a new one after work. My hands linger on my brother's smiling face before I leave.The drive to work is short. I arrive 10 minutes early, as I always do. I see that Bryan is working with me today. If I had to guess, he gets off at 7 since after that, the stand is pretty much dead and only requires one person to man."Hey Courtney, I didn't know you were working today. Did Dynese call out again?" he asks me as I put away my purse and wash my hands."Yep," I say."She really needs to do something about that baby. It's not fair to you to keep picking up her shifts.""Catch her some slack, Bryan. It's not like I can't say no. Ain't her fault if I agree.""Yeah, but everyone who works here knows you and how you are. You won't ever say no, not given her situation.""Then y'all don't know me," I say."Sure, sure." He waves off my words. "Just don't let it affect your schooling. What, you're a full-time student, right? And already working 30 hours here? Then you add on her shifts?" He sucks in a breath and shakes his head. He goes to stock up on some of the cream and liquid syrups. "Be careful. Some people can handle a heavy load, while some can't. You've got to know yourself. Nothing wrong with saying no sometimes. It's not like you're working full-time and reaping the rewards. Working so many hours without the extra perks isn't worth it, I'm telling you. Been in this business too long."I nod at his words but move past the topic. For some reason, I feel uncomfortable talking about it. "Has it been busy today?""Of course not. It's a Tuesday, and we aren't Starbucks. Who's coming here at 3 p.m. for some coffee? Get real." That earns him a laugh from me. "But that just means more for us. I know I had to make me some. I stayed up with the kids late last night.""How are the kids doing?" I ask him. I am now heading out to wipe off the tables in front of our stand."Good. Candie can't wait for summer camp next week, and Bryan Junior is enamored with that game I got him the other day. What a mistake that was." He rolls his eyes.I smile. "Family. Gotta love them," I say."Yeah," he agrees. He pauses. "You know, I never hear you talk about yours. How's your folks doing?"I look back up at him, still wiping the rag along the table. I give him a tight smile. "Yeah. Um, I'm just by myself." The look on my face and the tone in my voice must tell him it's a sensitive topic because he drops my gaze and clears his throat."I think I see a potential customer heading our way," he says.Sure enough, it is.The hours pass slowly with very few customers, but we make the most of it. We keep ourselves busy with cleaning and stocking, and when we are done, we do it all over again. We at least want to look like we are working and not just talking about what we've been up to for the past week or the latest crazy things we've seen on the news."Did you hear about that new super who stopped those trains from hitting each other?" he asks while I am sweeping for the third time this shift.I raise my eyebrows. "No, I have not.""He's another one of those aliens that look like us but aren't one of us. He has incredible strength like that one dude. You know, uh..." he snaps his fingers. "Dang. I can't think of his name. He wears a blue suit with a brain on it.""Headstrong?"He clicks his tongue between his teeth and nods. "Bingo. That's it. He's as strong as Headstrong. Not as nearly as smart, though. I don't know how I keep forgetting Headstrong's name. His suit practically gives it away."I shrug. "I can. There are so many supers with that same power and similar names. How are we supposed to memorize them all? I know I don't.""My older brother does. He's obsessed with them. He's got all their action figures and movie posters. I remember back when the government still had them hidden from us. My brother had believed in the conspiracy theory of their existence long before it was revealed. The aliens, the secret experiments, the whole shebang. My family thought he was a nut. Guess he got the last laugh. But that was before you were born. That's probably why your generation doesn't seem so amazed by them. They've always been here to you."I agree with him. "Yeah, that is probably why. You know, instead of supers, I wish the government had been hiding flying cars or time machines. It could make my dream of going to Edo-period Japan a reality. That would be way cooler than having to avoid becoming another nameless casualty whenever the heroes and villains duke it out.""And if the aliens weren't here, we wouldn't have to worry about so many protests and them getting out of hand," he adds.I grimace. "It's not the aliens that are the problem but the humans down here who can't get over themselves, I think." I shake my head. "I don't get why we can't all just get along. Old Hollywood movies should not scare us into becoming such speciesists. Not all aliens have superhuman abilities that can harm us, and even if they did, it doesn't automatically mean they want to hurt us. They are people, as far as I am concerned, and we should treat them like it. And I hate how we can never serve them here when the big man's around. Henry is so prejudiced."My boss making us turn away alien customers always got me angry, especially since it was an alien doctor who helped prolong my brother's life for another year. Dr. Lewis had been such a good person, helping so many people, and how was he repaid? Murdered like a dog out in the street simply because he wasn't originally from here.The memory of his fundraiser page for his funeral service flashes across my mind. I had donated to it because despite him being in a profession that should have had him set for life, due to discriminatory practices against him and higher-ups turning a blind eye, it turned out he and his family had not been faring well off financially. They barely afforded him a casket. He just kept at his job because it was his passion to help others, not for the dough.When news of his death hit the television, my boss saw it and simply said, "Well, he should have stayed where he belonged." I was so angry at him that I almost walked out that day. I managed to restrain myself, though. If I wanted to leave, I knew I needed to do so on good terms. I tried looking for other work so I could put in my 2 weeks' notice, but no one was hiring, and I was still paying my little brother's medical bills. So, I had no choice but to stay. The topic of aliens being brought up while I was working the stand always brought up this memory.Bryan had no idea about any of this, but I was glad that he didn't share the same sentiment about aliens as our boss. He didn't disagree with my opinion about the big man either. "He definitely is. Give an alien a coffee they paid for, and he freaks out. Let a regular ol' superhuman get in line, and suddenly, anything on the menu is free, and they've got no wait time. It's like the other customers don't even exist. I once saw people walk out of line over that. But I bet Henry didn't even notice.""More like he didn't care. Our regulars aren't bothered by his behavior, and he's already filthy, stinking rich. This is just a passion project for him. No one could be showing up, and we'd still be expected to be here. But I guess boring work is better than no work, huh?""Yeah." He wipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his apron. "Alright, I've finished counting the drawer and logged out. It's ready for you to sign in now. Anything else you need before I go?""Nah, I am good.""Drink plenty of fluids. Boss sure needs to get some AC in here. Take care of yourself now.""Thanks, you too. Goodnight."He leaves me, and I know that for the next two hours, I'll be by myself. The stand is detached from other buildings, and the rest of the businesses on the street closed back at 5. With the exception of a couple of street lights, the area is dark and vacant. It's eerie. I hate it.It's one of the things I dislike about taking Dynese's shifts. Back when I got hired for the job, I made it clear I preferred working before it hit nighttime or at least wanted someone closing with me. Dynese apparently did not put that on her application, as every time I take her spot, it is a late shift by myself. How is she not scared of being alone out here? The fear of someone trying something while I'm running things on my own has made me want to tell her no on several occasions, but then I think of something happening to her while she's out here and her little son not having anyone to turn to. I know his daddy ain't in his life. So, against my better judgment, I trudge out here anyway.I no longer step outside to wipe down the stand's tables and chairs repeatedly. I feel much more comfortable behind the protection of the enclosed stand. I'm not supposed to be on my phone, so I just wait behind the register, doing little things here and there to keep me busy, all the while very aware of the knife hidden in my apron. I really need to invest in some pepper spray.Time ticks by, and if I am not staring out at the darkness of the street, then I am glancing at the analog clock to the right of me, wishing 9:00 would come much sooner. The time finally comes when the big hand is 1 minute till 9, and seeing no one around, I decide I am going to close up shop a minute early. I step outside for the first time in almost two hours and go to bring in the outside chairs and tables. They fold easily, so I expect it to take no time at all to get them in.I have already gotten all the chairs down and am starting on the tables when I suddenly feel a presence behind me. I jump back and scream.It's a tall man. I am not sure how or when he got there as a second ago, he hadn't been near me. I would know because I was just facing that direction.He's well over six feet tall, and he has a hood pulled over his head. Despite the black jacket he wears, it does nothing to mask his broad shoulders. This man is ripped beneath his clothes, no doubt.For a moment, I am unable to react. Has he come to mug me? Rape me? Why else would he sneak up on me like that and have a hood pulled over his face?That's when I hear the following words spoken in a low voice: "Are you still open?"It takes me a second to register what he says. I'm not sure if the smart thing to do is to tell him we are closed or that we are open. It's definitely past 9 by this point, so I wouldn't be lying if I said no."Erm, sorry sir, we just..." My words trail off as he suddenly shifts his footing, causing his hood to move and allowing me a better look at his face. His blue eyes are rimmed with red and are glossy. It's evident he's been crying, and the purple bags beneath his eyes only underscore this. Not much sleep then, either. I take in his slumped shoulders. He's definitely been going through it.I hesitate to turn him away, suddenly. Based on the evenness of his voice and his dry cheeks, he's working hard to keep himself together. But he's barely managing to do it. Maybe that's why he also has the hood over his head despite it being a clear, hot night out. He doesn't want others to see. I don't know if I have the heart now to tell him no.I mull over what to do for another second before I grant him a smile."Yes, I'll be right with you, sir." I force my disposition to be cheery as I halt breaking down the tables and return behind the counter. I hope I don't regret my decision.I don't offer him a chair, and I hope he doesn't ask me for one. I may not want to turn him away due to how upset he looks, but I also don't have it in me to put back down the seats I already folded up. This isn't out of laziness so much as wariness. So far, he hasn't tried anything, but I still don't feel completely comfortable around him."What can I get you this evening?" I ask him.He looks at the menu. "Can I have an iced coffee?" The unique sound of his voice is striking. There's a rumbling noise occurring at the back of his throat when he pronounces certain words. Almost like a guttural sound. Combined with the deepness of his voice, it reminds me of thunder. I hadn't really noticed it earlier with how startled I had been. He has the barest hints of an accent, too. But it's not one I have ever heard of before. I then wonder if he's from another country. He couldn't be from another planet because if he were, his mandatory identification numbers would be tattooed on his forehead. All aliens have to have that in the United States.I must be focusing on my internal fascination with his voice for a moment too long because the questioning look he gives me has me snapping out of it. "Sure. Which flavor?" I'm really happy my dark skin tends to hide my blushes."You got Mocha?""Yes.""I'll take that in the biggest size you have.""Is cream and sugar okay?""Loads of it.""And is that all for you today, sir?"He nods."Alright, give me a moment, and I'll get that right out to you."I mix together the ingredients and have his beverage completed in no time. I place it on the counter between us."That will be $5, please."The man reaches into one of his pockets when a look of puzzlement shoots across his face. He moves his hands from one pocket to the next until he goes through every single one. When he returns back with nothing, he lets out a huff and stares up at the night sky. "I left my wallet at home. Fucking perfect." His hands are balled at his sides, and something tells me that whatever has been going on recently, him leaving his wallet and not getting this iced coffee might just be the thing that pushes him over the edge."Hey, not a problem," I intervene. "It happens. This one's on me. Enjoy your drink."Instead of taking it right away, his eyes flicker to the iced coffee and then back at me. His expression is filled with suspicion. "Why? You don't know me, I don't know you. You're not getting anything from me."His choice of words and accusatory tone throw me off a little. No one's ever reacted to me that way when I said something was on the house. Not to mention, I can feel tension growing between us- and not the good kind. I am also acutely aware of our height difference, and if it is possible, I swear his blue eyes have grown dark."Um, no," I nervously answer. "But I've had my fair share of rough days, and you look like you need your iced coffee more than I need a measly five-dollar bill."When he continues to look at me distrustfully, I say, "Sweet things make me feel better, too, when I'm down. Ice cream, lollipops, cakes, you name it. Not that I probably need any of it, seeing how big I am." I waggle my eyebrows and gesture down at my plus-size body with a small chuckle, hoping my self-deprecating joke will ease some of the unexpected tension. But his expression remains deadly serious. So I clear my throat and awkwardly continue. Yeah, the joke wasn't that funny anyway."What I mean is, um, I get that it helps-having sweet stuff when life sucks. I can relate. So I'll give you the drink anyway. For free," I emphasize. "No strings attached."His accusatory expression softens. He now looks confused more than anything. The tension in his shoulders lessens.Seeing this, I pick up the cup and hold it out to him. Yet he still doesn't accept it. He just stares at it. I'm stumped. Why won't he take it? I feel like I'm trying to coax a wild animal. Shouldn't it not be this hard to get someone to take a free drink?Wait. For all I know, maybe he's been through some kind of trauma or something, or no one's ever given him anything just to be kind before. I suddenly feel bad."You don't have to take it if you don't want," I tell him, deciding not to push it. I don't want to make him feel uncomfortable. Still...I want to do something to try and make him feel better - to give him some kind of encouragement. I choose my next words carefully."But... I just want to let you know that no matter what's been going on in your life, I hope you have more sweetness coming your way. Not just from the bottom of this cup. I know it can get tough, but try to hang in there."The man's eyes connect with mine at my words. He looks taken aback. His body then becomes utterly still. So still, in fact, that it's almost to an uncanny level. I can no longer tell if he's breathing. He's like a statue.Seconds pass. My hand is getting tired, and I'm not sure if I should say something or not. Everything about this interaction has been off.Then, life seems to return to him, and he grabs the cup. Our hands brush against each other when he does, and I tense up. I don't know if it's from the act of accidentally touching a stranger or if it's because his hands are unnaturally warm. Either way, I hope my reaction doesn't show. It must not because he doesn't comment on it. A faint smile appears on his lips. It's so small I almost wonder if I am imagining it."Thank you," he says. He glances at my name tag and adds, "Courtney." The way he says my name sounds like he's tasting something for the first time rather than just uttering a word. He pronounces it slowly, with a note of intrigue in his voice.Oh.Wow.His pupils are very large all of a sudden. When did they get so dilated?"Not a problem," I tell him. I expect him to walk away now that he has his order, but he doesn't. He just...keeps staring at me. It's intense. Too intense. It causes me to fiddle with my hands and break eye contact. I am uncertain if my reaction is due to fear or because he's handsome. Calling him simply attractive would be a gross understatement; he looks like he'd be a model for one of those big-time fashion companies. But at the same time, his odd behavior has me a little on edge.I'm wondering why he's out here this late when everything else is closed, and no one is around. He isn't one of our regulars; I've never met him before, and Henry always makes sure we take down the names and descriptions of our regulars along with their usual order to make sure we all know what they want. It keeps them happy and coming, he says. Well, "tall, handsome, beefy man who comes during the last shift to ask for a mocha iced coffee with lots of sugar and cream" was never added to the list. I would know. I check it every day."Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?" I eventually ask him when he still hasn't left. My head is turned down and to the side as I pretend to organize something under the counter. His stare is burning a hole in my cheek."What hours is this stand operational?""From 6 am in the morning to nine o'clock at night. We aren't open on Sundays."He is silent for a moment. "Then that means you served me coffee when you were closed." It isn't a question so much as a statement.Something in his tone makes me take a peek at him and I see that a frown mars his face."But it was not a problem at all!" I quickly assure him. "Like I said, it looked like you needed it.""Because I needed it," he echoes as if he still hasn't completely grasped the concept."Yes..."His intense stare returns. 10 seconds pass. 20 seconds pass.I can't do this anymore. I clap my hands together. "Um, I, uh, it was nice talking with you, sir, but I need to finish closing. Hope you have a good night."I go to wash the equipment used to make his iced coffee and see from the corner of my eye that he's still at the counter. Staring at me.Okay, now my alarm bells are definitely going off. I think about the knife in my apron. But then he says, "Thanks again for the iced coffee. I will remember you and what you've done." Once again, his word choice comes across to me as odd. He begins to leave.I relax. Maybe I've been paranoid all along. The man didn't try anything on me. Probably never planned to. I need to stop assuming the worst in people.I hear him say somewhere off in the distance, "Be careful out here. This area isn't known for being safe."Good point. Maybe he didn't mean me any harm, but that doesn't mean others won't. I still hate the night shift. I doubt he is close enough to hear me when I respond under my breath, "Yeah, tell that to my boss. Like he cares about what's safe and what's not."I have no idea of the repercussions of my half-hearted statement.