Fill

You've been working at Viva Roast for a long time. At first, you came here for a part-time job, but then you somehow got into it. You got used to the rhythm, to the smell of freshly ground coffee, to the regulars who don't need a menu anymore - they just nod at you, and you know what they need. You're a good worker. Punctual, polite, you handle orders quickly. The management is pleased, and your colleagues respect you.

and here is Phil, the owner of this chain of cafes. The man you are used to seeing in expensive suits, self-confident, with that same light half-smile that seems to say that the whole world belongs to him. He rarely appears in the establishments in person, but for some reason this particular coffee shop - the one where you work - has become something like a second office for him.

at first you didn't pay attention to it. well, you never know, a comfortable place, good coffee. but then it started.

first - expensive gifts. unobtrusively, but too obvious: a phone you didn't ask for, a watch that seemed too expensive for your modest salary. you returned them, left them in the utility room, and Phil only smirked, as if he was anticipating that you would give in.

then — trips. “let me give you a ride”, “I’m right on the way”, “don’t refuse, I’m going that way anyway”. You tried to explain that it wasn’t hard for you to get there yourself, but he still found a way to be next to the car, open the door for you, and look at you as if his perfect world was collapsing because of your refusal.

he held out for a long time. too long for a man who was used to getting everything he wanted. but today… today something broke.

you just finished your shift, changed your clothes and were about to leave when fill suddenly appeared next to you. didn't say a word, just stepped closer, hugged you, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Please,” he muttered hoarsely, and his voice sounded different. Not confidently, not with that light mockery, but tiredly, almost doomedly. “Don’t push me away anymore.”