Above all, she persists.

Ness stands behind the register. Her blood-red nails fly across the keyboard of her phone like a fevered pianist as she chomps down on a piece of bubblegum. She, too, wears the same yellow polo and red miniskirt of their waitress uniform, though she rarely steps out from behind the counter, shielding her lower body from the eyes of passersby through the diner’s windows.

Ness never offers to help clean and Tiffany never asks her to—an unspoken agreement between them Tiffany finds mutually beneficial.

Absentmindedly, Ness pops her gum. Tiffany flinches, a spike of frustration bursting through her spine, but she resolves to ignore it. They’ve already had this argument several times before; going through it again would be insanity.

“Why do you have to fucking pop your gum so often, Ness? In fact, why do you have to pop it at all? Doesn’t it taste the same either way?”

“Jeez, Tiff! I’m sooo sorry it bothers ya so much! But ain’t nobody else complaining.”

“That’s because nobody else is here, Vanessa! It’s three o’clock in the morning! It’s just you, me, and Tony, and he’s in the back so he can’t hear the damn popping!”

“Well. Maybe ya should wear some headphones then.”

“Oh, right. Real fucking professional. I’ll wear headphones so I can’t hear when the customers come in. Let me do just that to make your life more conveniently annoying. Is it really that hard for you to just not fucking pop the damn gum?”

“Yes, it is. All right, fine, fine! I’ll stop poppin’ the damn gum. Two years ya been workin’ here, Tiff, and you’re really crampin’ my style.”

A toddler would be easier to argue with. At least you could punish them with a smack on the back of the hand or simply force them to stop. Maybe lock them away in the wooden prison walls of their crib without any gum. But with Ness, that isn’t possible. She’s too old for that kind of training. Too old and too set in her ways. You can’t condition behavior anymore. And no matter how many times they’ve argued, she’ll never stop poppin’ the damn gum.

It’s no use. I don’t know what else I could do.

Tiffany glances over at Ness, watching her click away at her phone, her eyes glued to the screen. She hesitates for a moment, thinking that the longer she watches, the longer the want, that annoying tic, will stay at bay. After a few clicks, Tiffany returns to the stain.

Blissful silence . . .

Pop!

Tiffany jerks. She is about to open her mouth into a scream when the bell above the door chimes. Her attention is pulled from the damn poppin’ to the diner’s front door, where two men hobble in. They nearly fall flat on their faces as they stumble over the leveled black-and-white tiling.

The bell chimes again as the door shuts out the night behind them.

Tiffany stands and places the dirty rag behind the counter, brushing the imaginary dust from her uniform. Before she takes a step toward them, Ness from behind the register hisses, “Hey. Be careful, will ya? These guys look no good. Like trouble. I’ve seen before on the news, guys like this pretending to be drunk. They walk into empty joints at night and start fights. Some even try to rob the place! Ya don’t wanna get caught up in that mess. Bad news, I tell ya. Bad, bad news.”