God… the look on Yvonne’s face when I asked.

‘You’re joking, right?’ she said.

Her mate smacked my Coke out of my hand. It clanged on the floor and exploded. Even my friends laughed.

My hand burned. It burned more when I decked the guy.

How long had it been—twenty years now? The last time I ever asked a girl out. I felt the shame even now as I slouched out of bed—that familiar tightening in my stomach.

Everything is the same now. Was that really the last time I had any excitement? 

Dead-end job. Tired, so tired.

‘Hi sir.’

‘Hi miss.’

‘Bye miss.’

‘Yes, that HDMI cable is probably too short.’

Those idiots. I looked at those ones with my happiest face—my Cheshire Cat smile. 

How many days had it been since I shaved?

Jenny told me I was scaring the customers. I laughed in her face. Jenny was the only one I could talk to. I wanted to tell her I liked her, but then it would be her turn to laugh in my face.

I shaved it all off the next day, wearing my Cheshire Cat smile as I strolled in. Fake it, fake it.

What was it all for, anyway?

There’s only me and a small cat I named Cat in that dingy shoebox. It smells and my throat is always sore from the fan. The heat stifles me. 

Thirty-five years, eked by. At this rate, I’d blink and be seventy.

I dredged through another day of stupid customers and even stupider questions.

‘Why is this TV so thin?’

‘Why is Google in all TVs now?’

‘Is the Siri lady inside this one?’ 

At the end of the shift, a man was shouting at Neville, the cashier, ‘You owe me twenty dollars, not ten, mate. How stupid are ya? I’ve seen mouldy bread with more intelligence.’

Neville was bumbling. Poor kid. He was only sixteen.

The wave of red—my old friend. I’d been waiting for this.

I ran over to the register and towered over the man.

‘Take your change and leave,’ I said in my deepest voice.

‘Fuck off, Lurch. This numbskull owes me money.’

I peeked at the register, ‘The item’s ninety bucks, and you gave him a hundred.’

‘It’s on sale for eighty, you fuckin’ moron.’

A crowd was gathering. I saw Jenny approaching, but she stopped when she saw me.

I laughed at the man, ‘I don’t know what drugs you’ve taken, but that’s not the price. Get the fuck out of our store or I’m calling the cops.’

‘You fuckin’ dare speak to me like that? MANAGER!’ 

I pointed to the tag on my shirt, ‘I am the manager, you idiot.’

‘I’ll knock your block off.’

I smirked, ‘I’m sure everyone here would like to see you try, but for your safety, I think it’s best you leave now.’

‘You threatenin’ me?’

A boy in the crowd was filming us on his phone, ‘Yo, yo, this psycho dude is about to get popped by the manager at HomeBuy.’

Lucky for the psycho guy, our six foot nine security guard, Epeli, appeared from behind the man. He put his arm on the man’s shoulders, ‘Time to leave, sir.’

The man lost all his bluster, ‘But I-I- he owes me ten…’

Epeli guided him out of the store.

Someone from the crowd called out, ‘Get the fuck out, mate!’ 

In seconds, business returned to normal. I approached Neville, ‘You all right? Need a break or the rest of the day off?’

‘Nah, nah. I’ll be fine. Thanks though. Worried for a minute there.’

‘You did great, mate. Don’t let psychos like that let you second guess yourself.’

‘I won’t. Thanks, Shep.’

I grinned. Jenny called me Shep after she found out I loved George of the Jungle. The name stuck. I won’t lie, I love it. Who doesn’t want to be named after a loyal, adorable elephant?

‘Good job out there, Shep,’ Jenny said, while I was packing up for the day. We were the only ones in the break room.

‘Cheers, Jenny.’

‘Anyways, I’m off. See ya tomorrow.’

‘Hey,’ I said. Jenny stopped at the door.

I continued, ‘Ever feel like life is just… passing you by?’

A smirk crawled over Jenny’s face, ‘Every day. Every second, actually.’

‘Hmmm…’ I felt the nerves building in my chest. ‘Wanna grab a drink?’

Jenny laughed, ‘You’re joking, right?’

I flinched. Same words, different voice. I was back in highschool. Yvonne was laughing and the Coke was exploding at my feet.

But there was no Coke now. No laughter. Just Jenny standing at the door.

The shame still came—that familiar tightening in my stomach—but it didn’t cling like it used to. 

Something had shifted. Beneath the shame was stubborn satisfaction.

At least I asked.

Jenny continued, ‘I’ll never turn down a drink, Shep. You know that. Where’re we heading? Dealer’s choice.’

I grinned. Maybe, just maybe, life wasn’t done with me yet.