It was the same old grind at the office, day in and day out, with Ryder finding himself on the wrong end of Darius Pride’s anger. The reason behind this? Ryder couldn’t tell you even if he tried.

Darius had laid down the law once again, telling Ryder that he couldn’t clock out until every last piece of paperwork was off his desk was done. The result? Another night chained to the office, with the prospect of freedom only under the watchful gaze of the moon, by which time the city was nothing but deserted streets with the odd stray cat prowling the sidewalks.

Such relentless nights led him to the same conclusion: takeout over home-cooked meals. It wasn’t just about convenience; after work Ryder was just too drained to even think about cooking. Despite the nagging voice in his head about saving cash, fatigue won the battle every time.

Up ahead, the convenience store glowed invitingly. As Ryder pushed through the door, his exhausted gaze skimmed the shelves until he honed in on his usual combo.

Pork Ramen and a cold beer.

Strolling up to the cashier with his findings, Ryder mumbled a weary "Hey.” And pulled off his glasses, giving them a tired rub as the cashier started scanning his items. Glasses back on, he suddenly caught a bit off guard as the cashier flashed him a smile while announcing the total.

Their smile was like a rare slice of warmth in Ryder’s otherwise cold day, sending an unfamiliar flutter through his chest—was this little moment what contentment felt like? Was this happiness?

"Oh—um.” Ryder stuttered, his coordination in shambles as he scrambled for his wallet, only to let it slip through his fingers and tumble to the floor. Flustered, he offered up a sheepish smile, his ears glowing like stoplights, as he stooped to retrieve his wallet—only to bonk his head on the counter in the process. "Oh, damnit.” He cursed under his breath, straightening up and massaging the tender spot on his skull.

Talk about a first impression.