Customer service

If you look back far enough, you can see the shadow of what used to be. It looms over your present, ruining your day in the subtlest of ways. Because you carry a secret and you carry a torch.

"It's been a minute," he says.

The Redcoat is here and you didn't get so much as a warning. For shame.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asks. The memories you keep serve a purpose. Your vast knowledge of a shared past turns your silence into a weapon. It's all you have and he has never taken kindly to it. "Oh, come on," he insists, "I don't bite."

His smile is all teeth. He's a shark smelling blood in the water: if you don't play your cards right, you will be leaving this encounter without a heart. If only he was just after your legs.

"You really have nothing to say to me?"

The question gives you pause. Because you have so many nouns, verbs and adjectives you want to hurl at him. A part of you wants to get violent—verbally. Only, you've changed. You've evolved. He can't hurt you anymore.

You wet your lips. "Can I help you with something?" you hear yourself say. It's mechanical, impersonal and, from the look on his face, the most disarming combination of words in the English language. He's a stranger now and you're on the clock. He's just another customer and you are employee of the month for a reason.

He leans agaisnt the counter, closing the distance that separates you from each other. It's a sad attempt because you're worlds apart now. "I don't think you know what you're offering," he whispers.

You smirk. You feel triumphant. You ignore your better instincts and use the phrase "May I ask why that is?" instead of apologizing because his request is beyond what you're able to do for customers. You can't give him the pieces of you that survived the storm.

"Because you don't know what I might ask of you," he replies.

"I appreciate you bringing this to our attention," you respond, falling back on your training with a smile that makes your cheeks hurt. "Thank you for the feedback."

He laughs, but it sounds bitter. "This is how you want to do this, then?" he asks.

To be fair, you don't want to do any of this. He showed up out of the blue and messed with your vibe. He can either buy something or leave the store. Either way, you won't give him the satisfaction of calling the shots. So you just stare and wait him out. Problem is, he stares right back.

"You need to leave," you tell him. You're done being nice.

"And you need to be more curious," he fires back. "Ask yourself why I'm here."

"I don't care."

"You should."

"I'm working."

"I know."

"Go. Away."

He blinks, surprised. You inhale sharply. The last time you spoke you made the mistake of begging him to stay. Things didn't end well for you, then.

"I'm back for good."

Things won't end well for you now either.