Like every single person who has walked past today. More often than not, they’ve also stopped in, Maria’s baking the bread crumbs to their wandering appetites. Maria wasn’t kidding when she hired me. She barely makes it out of the back until the after-work crowd is finally headed home, and once she does, she’s covered head to toe in cocoa powder and ground espresso beans. I would be more than happy to help her bake, but someone has to manage the wily sorts.

And that someone is me. I’ve never had a real job before. I’ve babysat neighbors and taught Sunday school, but I’ve never had a paycheck. Well, technically, I still haven’t, but I’ve been assured it’s coming. I like working. I like manning this counter and teasing smiles out of grumpy old men and giving out free samples to little kids.

I like having something to do. A purpose. It’s not my life’s ambition, sure, but it’s mine.

The chime over the window rings out, and my eyeballs are assaulted by turquoise hair and lurid plaid.

“Gah, Duke, you should warn a girl before unleashing all of that.” I automatically turn to pour him a steaming Americano, his usual. Which I only know because in the handful of days I’ve worked here, he’s come in twice each shift, presumably on his way in and out next door, and ordered the exact same thing. He pulls up a seat at the counter and lifts the glass display dish, snatching a giant snickerdoodle. I stab the button on the register with a smirk and pass him his finished drink.

“Wicked?” he asks, nodding to the speakers tucked away at the corner of the room.

“J’adore Kristen Chenoweth,” I say with a wistful tilt of my head.

He nods, taking a sip. “You remind me of her.”

I raise a brow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is. You’re both tiny and sassy.”

I beam, more than happy to be either of those things, though I never expected to hear them from Duke and his punk-rock hair aesthetic. “You surprise me.”

He takes a chunk out of the cookie with his teeth. “I have an older sister who’s a theater nerd. She played Elphaba in a big-deal community production and made me practice lines with her. We must have watched the Behind the Scenes Wicked special a thousand times.”

“Lucky! I had to watch it alone. No siblings, and although my best friend, Vada, is probably the biggest music geek in the world, she only tolerates Broadway musicals on a purely professional level.”

“You’re from downstate, right? Have you seen anything live in Detroit?”

“Oh gosh, a few. I got to see Hamilton last fall.”

His gasp is one of pure delight. “You did not!”