He couldn’t miss a shift. Not when one night out could mean delaying rent to his parents. Not when groceries were already being rationed. His friends knew his situation, but they didn’t feel it. They didn’t lie awake doing mental math at 2 a.m. to figure out whether they could afford shampoo and gas in the same week.
He tightened his apron, squared his shoulders, and stepped back out into the dining area. The café floor was already heating up. Saturday crowds always brought chaos—families, couples, tourists, people scrolling their phones and forgetting the world around them.