Two days later...
Mr. Sim paced around the convenience store, steadily carrying a broom since he finished sweeping the unkempt breakroom.
Tranquil, serene moments gave him moments to appreciate the fruit of his efforts. The first convenience store in his town. For most of his life, he was aimless and unmotivated, spending the majority of his youth in splendor and pleasures.
However, at the age of forty-eight, he was able to turn his life around. Taking out several loans with the help of his siblings and putting together the little money he had to establish a convenience store, which turned out to be a decent investment.
A single heart attack made him turn his life around, a hard but fair divine intervention he never squandered, promising to be a better man.
*Tap!* *Tap!* The tapping of the glass caught his attention; it was his first ever employee.
"Good morning, Mr. Sim!" Frizz greeted, voice muffled behind the locked glass entrance.
"Frizz?" he muttered, unlocking the door.
"You're actually early," Frizz added, half-mocking. "That is a rarity."
Frizz entered the store, scratching the back of his head and grabbing another spare broom. "Turn off the computer in the break room. I think I forgot to turn it off."
"Yes, sir." Frizz entered the break room.
"He seems happier lately," Mr. Sim mused, continuing to sweep the floor.
Ten minutes later...
Frizz relaxed, slumping on the chair as he browsed his social media, scrolling wherever. The shift had yet to start, and he had some time to kill.
⟐
sigmaballs1999: Super strength with no super bones will severely fracture your knuckles, red hair!
redhairchainsawlover: @gojosatorz if you punch a wall, would you cry?
gojosatorz: nah, i wouldn't
-- last message 11:32 pm
frizzsoda: Hey, @sigmaballs1999, thank you for the telekinesis lesson. I finally have a grasp of effectively using it. <3 <3
frizzsoda: in my story, i mean.
sigmaballs1999: No problem, I'd love to read it sometime. :O :O o_0
⟐
"Frizz! Fill the refrigerators!" Mr. Sim barked.
"Yes, Mr. Sim!" Frizz heeded, logging out of his account and turning off the computer.
Three hours later...
Frizz tinkered with the problematic cash register again, focused on searching for the primary issue but nevertheless gave up on it again. He put his hands up, giving up and sighing.
"You're Frizz, right?" A middle-aged woman asked, placing a bottle of water on the counter.
"Yes...?" he replied; the face of the middle-aged woman brightened up.
The video that showed two tied-up burglars became a very brief sensation in Frizz's town. He was hardly in the video, but it still mentioned him catching the two burglars.
Today, during his mundane cashier shift at the convenience store, the house's owner—a teacher—recognized him from the viral video of the incident. She thanked him profusely and even bought him a hotdog bun with soda as a token of gratitude before leaving.
"I hope there are more people like you." The middle-aged teacher added as she left.
Frizz barely had time to enjoy the feel-good moment when Mina, his coworker, started throwing him odd glances, and it was starting to get on his nerves.
"Did you need something?" Frizz snapped, breaking the silence.
"Nothing," Mina replied, though her tone betrayed her curiosity. She turned back to wiping the windowpanes. "I was just surprised, that's all," she replied, then whistled a tune.
Frizz studied her for a moment, certain she wanted to add more. His curiosity faded, uninterested in what she had to think.
Mina's accusations still persisted, and he hated that.
The entrance bell jingled, signaling a customer. Mina greeted them, but Frizz froze since it was someone he knew, a close friend from high school, someone he hadn't seen in years.
"Hey, Mill!" Frizz waved, a broad smile spreading across his face.
"Frizz? Frizz Jay Sadies?" Mill returned the smile, walking up to the counter. "It's been a long time."
The two shook hands happily. "It really has been a long time."
Four minutes later...
The two friends sat outside the store, clinking their beer cans in a nostalgic toast.
"You're back. Are you planning to live here again?" Frizz asked.
"No, that's not it. I just thought about visiting here; I got some old memories here anyway." Mill stretched his back.
"How long has it been?" Frizz laughed, leaning his back against the wall.
"Maybe six years?" Mill estimated, staring at the cloudy sky.
"Last I heard, you took up boxing. Is that true?" Frizz asked, opening another can.
"Sure is!" Mill said with a grin, throwing a playful jab at the air. "Boxing's my dream job."
Frizz smiled, memories of their younger days flooding back. "Good for you, man. I always thought it was just a hobby. Didn't expect you to go all in."
"Neither did I!" Mill admitted. "Not until I won my first official match. I made a nice roll of cash betting on myself, too."
"Wait, isn't that illegal?" Frizz asked, raising an eyebrow.
Mill shrugged. "Only if you get caught." He flashed a cheeky grin, forming an OK sign with his hand. "I bet around four months' wages, and it doubled. That one bet changed everything."
Frizz chortled, slamming his beer can on the table. "Still a risk-taker, huh? Congrats, man."
"What about you? What have you been up to?" Mill asked, his tone casual, though the question visibly stiffened Frizz.
Frizz gestured at the convenience store. "Not much. Just working here. Still trying to figure things out." He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.
Mill studied him as his eyebrows slightly furrowed. (Still looking for a purpose, huh?) he thought to himself but decided not to comment.
Instead, Mill brightened and perked up. "Hey, why don't we catch up more? My coach's gym is near the market. Remember that place?"
"Out of all the spots, you want to meet at that old gym?" Frizz teased as he repeatedly swapped a beer can between both hands.
"Come on, drinks are on me," Mill said, draining his can. "Besides, you still owe me a rematch in that arm wrestling competition."
Frizz chuckled, staring off into the distance, remembering a competition he had won. "That was ages ago. But fine, if drinks are on you, then why not?"
"Deal," Mill said, adjusting his jacket. "I've got something to do first, but I'll meet you there later tonight." With that, he hopped onto his motorcycle and sped off, leaving Frizz with a warm feeling in his chest.
He hasn't felt this in a long time. The two used to do things together until they had to move away due to several issues, both financial and personal.
(It's been too long), Frizz thought; his moment of peace was interrupted by the sharp glare of Mina through the windows. He waved her off, silently promising to get back to work as soon as possible.
Later that evening...
Mr. Sim prepared to lock up the convenience store, spotting Mina tinkering with the cash register.
"Leave the cash register, Mr. Sim called for someone to fix it."
"Okay."
Mounting his electric bike, Frizz's heart skipped a beat when he caught sight of a familiar face in the distance: Baron.The memory of their last encounter sent a chill down his spine.
Baron, followed by two men, passed by Frizz, his gaze as menacing as ever.
"Okay, be calm. He doesn't know that it was you." Frizz took a deep breath as he straightened his jacket. (He's still mad about what happened.)
Frizz instinctively ducked his head, pedaling away as fast as he could, trying not to make a big profile.
⟐
Baron paused, looking back with an inscrutable expression, and observed Frizz pedal away.
One of his men finally spoke up. "You know that guy?"
"That's the store clerk, right?" Another one remarked.
Baron didn't answer, jaw tightening instead as he recalled waking up from a recent one-man raid. He woke up with a bloody nose and two of his guards on the ground floor, reeling in pain.
"Bryan said something about back then... something that stuck even if it was hooey," Baron muttered.
"About the floating things?" one of his men asked, quietly observing Baron's expressions.
"Never mind. Let's keep moving."
The men exchanged glances, confused, but followed Baron as he continued to walk with an audible grinding of his teeth.