92: Exclusivity (drabble)
She sees him sometimes at work, wearing an apron made out of opaque white plastic and a baseball cap shoved roughly on his head, with only his black curls peeping out from underneath. When she walks in with her uniform on and her eyes darted away from the rest of them, he’s the one who looks up and smiles at her.
The first thing that she’ll always notice about him is his eyes. His eyes are warm and smart. His eyes carry a glint of what she calls exclusivity – that the glint in his eyes when he smiles at people is only reserved for those he truly takes a liking to. And so obviously, she is part of this unofficially exclusive club of people that he likes.
Most of the time she will be working in a different part of the store, and won’t get to see much of him. The only time they really see and talk to each other is closer to the end of their shift, where they don’t have to do anything else to close up.
She knows that she’ll never end up with him, however. He is four years older than her and she has a boyfriend, who is she very committed to. She knows that he is probably one of those people who make a rather significant impact on your life before life happens and both of you move on and there’s nothing more to be said about anything.
He’ll be a memory, just like many other people in her life, but undoubtedly a good memory. She’ll always remember the glint of exclusivity in his eyes, and where, at that moment, he had unwittingly invited her to join his own exclusive club.