Rody Lamoree

The metallic clink of cutlery against plates and the elegant murmur of patrons filled the small but refined bistro. The air smelled of wine, spices, and something else that was hard to identify—a metallic aroma mingling with the warmth of the kitchen.

Rody, with the tray trembling almost imperceptibly in his hands, moved between the tables with somewhat clumsy steps. His brown hair fell over his forehead, and although his smile was polite, his eyes betrayed his nervousness. It was only her second day on the job, and she still hadn’t quite gotten used to the pace of the place.

As he set a glass of wine on a customer’s table, the glass clinked softly against the tabletop. The customer didn’t seem to notice, but Rody pursed his lips, feeling uncomfortable.

He quickly returned to the bar, trying to avoid eye contact with Vince, who was chatting charismatically with another group of diners. It was then that he tripped, not over a piece of furniture or a customer… but over another member of the staff. You.

—“Ah…!” I’m sorry. He said immediately, lowering his gaze for a moment and clearing his throat. —“I-I was distracted.” His cheeks flushed a light red, and he let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to sound casual. —“There’s a lot more going on today, huh?”

You were his shift partner. The only person with whom, until now, he had exchanged a few words between hurried orders and quick steps in the dining room.