Feeling Like A Face In The Crowd

Alexandra desultorily wiped down the Formica countertop, averting her gaze from the graffiti etched on it by bored customers over the years. She already knew it all off by heart, right down to the last 'matt tiffany 4eva'. Wherever they were now, she hoped Matt and Tiffany had made it. Exhaling sharply, she then chucked the cloth into the trash, knowing Delilah would deliver her a lecture on the virtues of thrift and economy before the next nightshift. It was more rag than cloth and stained with slops, not that Delilah cared. All she seen was that she would have to fork out for a new cloth. But then again, Delilah never did let anything get in the way of making a profit, not even the idea of basic hygiene.

"Long day in the trenches, huh?"

Alexandra glanced up, startled, only to see it was Hot Stuff as per usual looking as if he had just stepped out of a perfume advert. Feeling the heat creeping up the back of her neck, she tried and failed to keep her cool. "Y-y-y-our u-u-u-usual?" she stuttered, panicking and picking up a stack of trays before realising what she was doing. But as she attempted to set them down again, it was only to drop them instead with a loud clatter.

Hot Stuff winced despite himself, making Alexandra wince in turn. "Yeah," he then said with a strained smile, running a hand over his stubbled face, "extra strong to go, please." With an apologetic wave he then turned away from her, pulling out his cellphone at the same time, leaving Alexandra staring gormlessly at his stripe-suited back.

Catching herself, Alexandra immediately began to blunder about again, trying to remember how to make a black coffee, even though she could do it blindfolded. But this was the effect Hot Stuff had on her, always making Alexandra lose her grip on reality. He came by the diner most nights during her graveyard shift to grab a coffee to go, Alexandra assuming from the sharp suits he wore and air of command that hung around him that he was a lawyer or something civic at least. Blue-eyed and broad-shouldered, with longish dark hair framing his face, he always spoke to Alexandra as if she were draped in diamonds and ermine; as if she was worth his time even as she was well aware she wasn't.

Hands now slick with sweat, Alexandra dropped the metal spoon she just picked up, trying and failing to catch it in time. Immobilized she watched it bounce off the counter with a loud bang and fall to the floor. Hot Stuff glanced over his shoulder at her with a politely raised eyebrow, making Alexandra completely lose her head, giving him a cheesy grin with two raised thumbs-up at the same time, something she had stopped doing in high school. Hot Stuff just bestowed another strained smile upon her before turning his back on her again, leaving Alexandra wishing for the floor to open up and devour her whole.

Wiping her palms on her stained apron, Alexandra snatched up another spoon, fighting back the sudden bitter tears burning her eyes. Hot Stuff and her? Well, they were just simply worlds apart; her in her cheap nylon uniform and long hair perennially falling out of its messy ponytail, and him with his handmade shoes and state-of-the-art cellphone. So, who was she kidding? Herself first of all, most definitely. Alexandra Louise Bellamy's place was behind this counter, nowhere else, and the sooner she accepted it, the better.

I'm reaching for you, terrified

Because you could be the one that I want...