He had woken up at noon, missing breakfast altogether, instead opting for a ham and cheese sandwich. He held his phone, checking notifications and responding to texts as he ate. His dark, wavy locks appeared as if they had been home to a few pigeons throughout the night. After scarfing down his sandwich, he spent a total of five minutes throwing together an outfit, before stuffing a towel into an adidas cinch bag and biking to his friend’s pool. He had to be at work by four, and it was already nearly one. By two thirty, he was back home. He texted his friends and posted on his story. Then, he got ready for work, throwing on shorts and a random lacrosse shirt. He left at three thirty. At nine fifteen, he saw a girl, maybe a year younger than him, with what was obviously her family. They were carbon copies of the mother, blonde hair and blues eyes for all three children. He snuck glances at her while she waited in line for ice cream. Wavy, tangled hair and sun-kissed shoulders, exposed by the blue, floral tube top she was wearing. It seemed as though she was laughing the whole time she waited, her ocean eyes seemed to be perpetually smiling. Jeans, rolled above her ankles and beat-up flip-flops. She was looking at him occasionally, too. She didn’t end up at his window, but one he was working near. He watched the surprised look on her face when she was handed a waffle cone filled with two scoops of chocolate ice cream, enough for her to be handed a small dish with it. The rainbow sprinkles really were the finishing touch. He saw her stealing glances at him while he scooped ice cream for another family. He looked over, instinctively. Their eyes met. She blushed, quickly looking away. His gaze lingered a moment longer, before he got back to work. He saw her leave, not having finished her cone. Ten o’clock finally rolled around, and he drove straight home. Walking into his house, he shut the door slowly, as not to wake his mom or brother. Another ham and cheese sandwich for dinner, but this time he added pickles and tomatoes, for good measure. He carried a water bottle up to his room. After his shower, he put on his dad’s old hoodie. It still smelled like him. Tired and somber, he pulled out his earbuds and started his most comforting playlist. All the songs he remembered his dad listening to when he was younger. Earbuds in, hoodie on, he fell asleep on top of his covers at midnight.