It Goes Down at Air MartR. A. Franklin | Avius Publishing
House
Prologue: The Corner Where It All Comes Together
Cog City wasn’t famous like its neighbor, Galaxy City—but it had a pulse all
its own. Students buzzed from college to coffee shops. Buses wheezed past
neon-lit diners. From the downtown skyline to the Bronze Buffalo Airport
tarmac, this place moved like it had somewhere to be—and fast.
In the middle of it all sat a busy intersection most people knew without
knowing they knew it. North led to downtown businesses and high-rises. South to
the airport. East to theme parks and beach-inspired chaos. West? Shopping
districts, restaurants, and two rival colleges. But right on that corner, where
the city’s lifeblood pulsed strongest, stood something new:
Air Mart.
A towering three-story building with glass that caught the sunrise just
right. Avius 5000, a
family-owned company rooted in local ambition, had seen this intersection not
just as an address—but an opportunity. A bold experiment in retail, food,
fashion, and community… all under one roof. Some believe it’s a mini-mall.
Others? Just their future favorite spot.
But for the employees inside, it wasn’t just a building. It was a
reset button, a second chance,
a shot at something different. From aspiring
football players to foodies, from college hopefuls to full-time day dreamers—Air
Mart brought together an unpredictable, brilliant, clashing crew.
And on one crisp Monday morning, with orientation kicking off for Air Mart’s
new crew, it all began.
Theme music!
The harsh buzz of the alarm clock cut
through the silence like a drill sergeant barking orders. 6:00
AM. Jay Walker groaned, blindly smacking his hand against the
snooze button—missed. Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
"Man, I swear this thing has beef with me," he muttered, finally
silencing the clock.
Still half-asleep, he reached for his phone, unlocking it with muscle memory
before cueing up a track from Blu39. The
bass thumped through his apartment, instantly shifting the energy.
"Check the stats, gotta stack—pure flames on wax…neva eva remix, or
lie about the facts"
Jay nodded along, lips moving as he repeated the lyrics under his breath.
This was the zone, the mindset he
needed before stepping away from his place of peace.
Swinging his legs off the bed, he stretched until his joints popped, then rolled into the bathroom. The shower was his reset button—steam rising, water hitting skin like a wake-up slap, and Blu39’s verses weaving between thoughts about his new job.
It wasn't glamorous, but it was a stepping stone. One day, the paycheck from Air Mart would turn into a contract offer for arena football. One day, he'd be on the field instead of stocking energy drinks. One day. Soon.
For now? He had three hours to get ready, a bus to catch, and Trent Jacobs to deal with—dude met Jay and immediately tried to compete with him, embarrassing himself in ways he couldn’t even script. Jay wasn’t particularly happy that Trent got a job at the same location after that horrible first impression, but a hard shrug put him back in the zone.
With one last verse shouted into the steam-filled air, Jay grabbed a towel, before wrapping up the rest and he was ready to take on the day.
The bus ride through Cog City felt slower than usual, and Jay kept glancing at his phone like it could make time skip forward. A playlist titled “Grind Mode On” vibrated in his earbuds—heavy bass, clean hooks, something to match the heat brewing in his chest. New job. New chances. No fumbles.
He stepped off the bus, duffel over his shoulder, sneakers tapping the curb like clockwork. Air Mart stood before him like something out of a sci-fi movie—three stories of semi-circled newness, a vibrant interior he could see through the huge storefront windows, and promise. The Air Mart logo gleamed under the morning sun like a badge of honor.
Jay muttered under his breath, “Okay, let’s see what this spaceship got for me.”
Inside the Base Station, Craig Green was posted up near a folding table stacked with employee handbooks, a few folders full of the manager’s agendas, and branded water bottles that looked like they’d come out of a motivational seminar.
“Walker?” Craig asked, glancing down the list with his signature resting smirk.
“Yes, sir,” Jay said, standing a bit straighter.
“Sir? I like it.” Craig chuckled. “You sound like you about to enlist. This ain’t boot camp—yet.”
A few chuckles rippled around the sales floor as the other new hires gathered in matching polos. Jay recognized a few faces from the final interviews: Trent, with his hair combed too tight and attitude just as sharp. Maria, effortlessly cool with a notebook in hand. Kim, already glancing his way with a half-smile.
Craig clapped his hands once. “All right, Air Mart Cadets—orientations in 10, so if your uniform ain’t tucked, your breath ain’t fresh, or your brain ain’t turned on yet…” He let the silence sit a beat. “Now’s the time to get it together.”
Jay grinned. The tone was set. Respect, rhythm, and just the right amount of ridiculousness.
He slipped into one of the folding chairs, glancing around as more hires shuffled in. Some looked nervous. Others tapped their feet like they were waiting for a beat to drop from Air Mart’s casual lo-fi music mix. From across the aisle, Maria Sanchez caught his eye with a casual nod.
As the managers handed out handbooks and starter kits, she leaned over just enough to speak low. “Hey, by the way… thanks for earlier. At the door.”
Jay blinked. “Oh—that? It was nothing.”
“Nah,” she said with a small smile. “These days, people don’t really do ‘after you’ anymore. So… it’s something.”
Jay shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his grin betrayed him. “Well, I figured if I started the day being rude, karma might assign me to clean the toilets.”
She chuckled. “Noted. You’re already off to a strong start.”
Before he could say more, Ja’Ron’s voice cut across the room.
“Ummm... is this ceiling glowing, or am I just under-rested and overexcited?”
Heads turned as Ja’Ron spun slowly in place like someone browsing a boutique spaceship.
“You see this place?” he said, eyebrows raised. “They’ve got LED lights under the trim. Touchscreens in the wall. This ain’t no regular store—our stores outta Star Trek!”
Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.
Vickie Vanguardi.
Craig passed the mic to Vickie just as the staff settled into their seats with their onboarding packets and glossy floor maps.
“Now that you’ve got your materials,” she said, “it’s time for you to meet your floor leaders.”
She gestured with both hands like a maestro commanding a band. “If you’re assigned to Air Cuisine,” she said with a wink toward Margarita, “your taste buds are in for a treat—and your stamina might be tested.”
Margarita gave a knowing smile and raised her clipboard like a badge of honor.
“To those selected for Air Shop…” Vickie nodded toward Vance, Shica, and Calvin. “Style and tech live up there—and so do the weird ones. And I say that with love,” she laughed. Calvin tried to nod with composure but nearly dropped his tablet.
“For the rest of you who plan to sweat a little more and run the ground floor…” she paused for effect, “Base Station—we hustle different. You’ll be with Craig.”
Craig nodded once. Cool. Quiet. Controlled.
The room buzzed with low conversation as employees began to group up near their respective leaders.
Jay, Maria, and Trent gravitated toward Craig with a few others in tow, while Keith high-fived someone on the way toward the escalators.
Vickie clapped twice. “Alright! Everyone will spend the rest of the morning training with your direct managers. There’ll be demos, safety protocols, and a lot of sitting and standing. But the real prize?”
She raised one hand.
“Free Lunch.”
Mild cheers broke out, especially from Ja’Ron, who hollered, “Does it come with dessert?!”
Vickie smirked. “Thanks to Train A Chef, it will. And yes—you’ll get a chance to tour the other floors after training so you know how this place breathes from top to bottom.”
She motioned toward the stairwell and escalators. “Let’s move. Your official shift doesn’t start today... but your story does.”
Maria looked to Jay, and he gave her a subtle nod like, Let’s get it.
And just like that, Air Mart’s team was born.
Floor 2 – Air Cuisine
The group stepping off the escalator landed in what looked like a boutique restaurant from a cooking show. Stainless steel gleamed under warm hanging lights, and the open space buzzed with culinary potential.
Margarita Valentin clapped once, her curly ponytail bouncing slightly. “Welcome to Air Cuisine—where flavor meets flair.”
T.T. Franklin stood near the back, clutching her packet, eyes wide like she’d just walked into a cooking competition. Beside her, Sarah and Mary Lou exchanged soft hellos, while Victor “Vick” Lopez Jr. leaned coolly against the prep table, earbuds in one ear, head bobbing to music only he could hear. He lifted one brow at the group like he was sizing up teammates for a co-op mission.
“Here's the deal,” Margarita said, walking them to the kitchen side. “For the next few weeks, we train and prep. That means clean uniforms, tight stations, and clean shoes. We don’t do sliding around here, unless it’s into a booth to deliver a hot plate.”
Slight laughter broke out.
Then, in walked Willy James, apron on, smile wide, already holding a serving tray like a prop in a sitcom.
“Did somebody order a culinary masterpiece and 38 years of kitchen wisdom?”
“Hi Willy,” Margarita said with a smirk.
He winked. “Let’s give these young folks a reason to eat lunch here even when they clock out.”
In the corner, Ja’Ron, on cafeteria recon, peeked in a pot and whispered to no one in particular, “Smells like opportunity and cholesterol.”
Floor 3 – Air Shop
Upstairs, the vibe couldn’t have been more different. Lo-fi music played softly in the background, and the fluorescent lighting reflected off racks of gadgets, streetwear, Air Mart merch, and accessories. The walls had murals of art, comic-style panels, and digital signage that blinked with quotes like “Bold Enough to Be You.”
Vance Nadio stood front and center, arms behind his back like he was about to deliver an existential lecture on fashion. But it was Calvin Long who stepped forward.
“Alright team,” he said with an enthusiastic but careful tone, “this floor’s your canvas. You represent creativity, culture, and clean customer service. And yes… I mean physically clean. This is still a store.”
Keith Green, looking slightly drained from his electrician coursework the night before, cracked a smirk at that. Next to him, Manda Gathers adjusted her studded bracelet and looked around like she’d planned how the rest of her shift would go.
“You’ll get time on register rotation, display management, and floor flow,” Calvin continued. “And if you see me on a ladder fixing something—just keep people out the way for me.”
In the back, Lenard, Sedrick, and Chris Rossi tried to contain their laughter after someone whispered something about matching staff hoodies would look like bootleg superhero uniforms.
“Y’all,” Shica said gently, “if we can all just…” She trailed off, not quite finishing the sentence, but still somehow effective in getting them quiet.
Meanwhile, back at the Base Station, Craig glanced at the time on his watch and nodded to Jay, Maria, and the rest.
“Lunch is about to hit. Let’s see what these chefs have in store for us today.”
And just like that, Air Mart’s first official training lunch was about to kick off—tables set, trays lined, and a whole building filled with fired-up ambition awaiting some flavor.
While in the Air Cuisine’s dining area, the staff were able to mingle. And all three teams—Base Station, Cuisine, and Shop—had just taken their first steps into what none of them knew would be anything but a typical job.
Because… It Goes Down at Air Mart.
Chapter 2: Lunch Breaks and Left Turns
The second-floor dining area buzzed with anticipation as the Base Station
and Air Shop teams trickled into booths and lounge sections near the windows.
The Air Cuisine staff prepped for lunch duties while some leaned on the
railings, taking in the glow and the view of the world outside—trying to play
it cool as their stomachs started to rumble.
“I’m hungry hungry,” said Jay.
“Same here,” replied Sedrick, walking by with Leonard and Chris, deep in
debate about the top three fighting games
of all time.
“Hungry hungry?” Trent asked with a sarcastic look, eyeing Jay.
Jay simply glanced at him, then turned back toward the windows to enjoy the
view.
Craig stood near the ascending escalator, arms crossed like a calm general
at ease. Beside him, Vickie Vanguardi casually flipped through a
checklist on her tablet, pineapple sparkling
water in hand.
“Team looks good,” Craig said. “Settling in faster than expected.”
Vickie nodded. “So far. I’m giving it an eight overall. I don’t want to get
too excited.”
Suddenly, Craig’s walkie buzzed. Margarita’s voice came through, clear and
cool:
“Hi, Craig? This is Margarita,” she said with urgency.
“How’s it going?” Craig asked, waiting for the scoop.
“There’s some bootleg Dolemite-looking guy out here trying to get food from
the Train A Chef crew,” said Margarita.
Moonlight’s voice cut through the walkie: “Ummm excuse me, sweet thang, but
me and my cousin taught Dolemite everything he knows. I’m a classic,” he said,
breaking into a spin move.
Craig closed his eyes with a sigh. “Moonlight.” He turned to Vickie. “I’ll
be back.”
“Wait for me,” Vickie replied, hungry for a little excitement herself.
Outside – Air Mart Entrance
Moonlight leaned against the sliding glass door like a man
auditioning for a Soul Train reboot. Velvet vest, flared pants, and a tote bag
full of mixtapes slung over his shoulder. The Train A Chef delivery team tried
to wheel a sleek metal cart of uncooked food around him.
“What type of food y’all wheeling in here?” Moonlight crooned, stepping in
front of them. “Can I speak truth into existence and manifest myself a to-go
plate?”
A sous-chef raised an eyebrow. “We haven’t even fired the ovens yet.
It’s uncooked. Get off the drugs and go find a job so you can get a life and
stop begging.”
The other chefs froze. Margarita and Ja’Ron turned toward the
sous-chef, eyebrows raised.
“You wrong for that,” said Ja’Ron.
“Very,” Margarita agreed.
Moonlight cut through the tension.
“So you got all that to say about me looking the way you look? What are you,
six-four, six-five? Got a job, but I can still get a girlfriend quicker than
you—with that water cooler head. I bet they had to custom-make your hat using a
paint bucket.”
“I’m dead. You is too much,” laughed Ja’Ron, nearly doubling over.
The sous-chef tried to recover. “Take a hike, bum.”
But Moonlight wasn’t done.
“You’re a waste of height, young buck. Your head so big… when people think
you’re running, you really just chasing your head to get back on balance. Just
get in there and cook my food, Chef Boy R Big Head.”
Margarita tucked her lips to keep from laughing. The other chefs looked at
the sous-chef, waiting to see how he’d respond. He glanced at Ja’Ron, who was
now wheezing with laughter.
“You got a fan. Oh my God, you too much,” Ja’Ron said between breaths.
Craig stepped forward, Vickie just behind him.
“What’s going on, Moonlight?” Craig asked. “I need them inside so our staff
can eat and stay on schedule.”
“What’s going on, brotha? I just had to get your chef straight—and make sure
I can get dibs on a plate,” Moonlight said, smirking but serious.
“Brotha, let’s step off to the side real quick,” Craig said, motioning the
chefs inside.
Margarita guided the Train A Chef team to the service elevator, tugging
Ja’Ron by the hand to pull him away from the show.
“I just wanted a plate, brotha. You know how it goes. It’s not the easiest
out here, baby,” Moonlight said.
“Two things,” Vickie said, stepping beside Craig.
Moonlight saw her, took a slight step back, and turned on the charm.
“Well hello there, Miss Lady. I see you looking good today. Hair looking
like you just stepped out a magazine,” he said with a grin.
Vickie tried to be stern, but Moonlight’s charm softened her tone.
“I appreciate that. But two things: One, we have to make sure our staff have
food so they can focus during training. Two, we don’t know if there’ll be any
food left—so we can’t guarantee you a plate.”
Craig glanced at Vickie. He didn’t say anything, but he knew her words had
played into Moonlight’s favor.
“So what you’re saying is… if there’s something left, then I can get a
plate, right?” Moonlight asked.
Realizing she’d talked herself into it, Vickie nodded. “If there’s anything
left at 2 p.m., you’ll get a plate.”
Moonlight lit up. “That’s all I needed. Miss…?”
“Vickie. Vickie Vanguardi. And this is my fellow manager, Craig.”
“Yeah, I saw Brotha Craig before. I just never knew ya name, brotha. That’s
all I needed, Miss Vickie. I’ll see you… at two,” Moonlight said, tipping his
hat.
“Oh, before I go.” He reached into his tote and held out a cassette. “My
latest drop: Sunset Soul & Breakfast Ballads, Vol. 7. You’ll
appreciate the track called ‘Scramble My Heart (Over Easy).’”
Vickie glanced at it. “Sorry, but I don’t have a cassette player.”
He tucked the tape away with a smile. “Someday, y’all’ll want my music. I’m
telling you.”
With a smooth pivot, he walked off singing something called, Groove Under
Da Moon.
Vickie looked at Craig and tilted her head, like “What just happened?” as
some of the Train A Chef staff came down to get the remaining food.
“And that was Moonlight—the one I told you about who used to show up at
Peter’s Petroleum during closing hours,” said Craig.
“He’s certainly a character, to say the least,” Vickie replied, laughing as
they walked back inside.
Inside – Air Cuisine Kitchen & Dining Area
Back upstairs, the Train A Chef pros were well underway, instructing the
staff on their designated kitchen stations. Margarita walked the floor,
monitoring each setup to ensure her Air Cuisine crew was absorbing everything
for long-term success.
Vick stood near a chef as he learned how to make sweet chili spring
roll wraps, almost like he was ready to absorb culinary greatness through
osmosis. Sarah, Mary Lou, and T.T. watched the setup with serious focus.
The dining area was live. Booths packed. Ja’Ron leaned over the
ordering counter, scanning the menu before go time.
“I’m glad we don’t have to cook,” Ja’Ron said to Maria.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Maria replied with a smile.
Margarita caught Maria’s eye and approached. “Time to start taking
orders.”
She laid out the steps for service, from drinks
and appetizers to entrées, desserts, and final table resets.
“I know it seems like a lot,” Margarita added, “but by the end of the month,
this’ll be second nature.”
“As long as I’m not sweating on a grill, I can do this,” said Ja’Ron.
“When we’re short-staffed that’s the only time you’ll step in—since you two
are the hosts,” Margarita replied.
The first wave of staff received their meals: sweet chili spring roll wraps, fried crab bites, garlic butter
salmon with broccoli and red beans and rice, Cloud Burgers with Thunder Fries, Southern fried boneless chicken thighs with mac and cheese and collard greens, or center-cut pork chops with Alfredo pasta and salad. Dessert options included Grandma’s
Nutty Chocolate Chunk Cookies, Super Duo
Milkshakes, and Apple Pie Delight.
Once the Sales Floor and Air Shop teams were served, Train A Chef swapped
spots with the Air Cuisine crew, inviting them to take a seat and enjoy the
same hospitality.
That’s when Ja’Ron leaned toward Maria, lowering his voice.
“Girl… Margarita,” he whispered, finally catching her attention. “Look, I
don’t wanna be funny, and I know he got clowned outside, but I don’t want that
one chef messing with my food.”
“He doesn’t know who’s who,” Margarita said—though when she glanced toward
the kitchen door, she caught the sous‑chef innocently peeking out while sipping
water. That gave her pause.
“Girl… he knows where I’m sitting,” Ja’Ron murmured.
Margarita thought for a moment, then went over to reassign the sous‑chef to
work a section of the dining area since all the food was already cooked.
“Better safe than sorry,” she thought, giving Ja’Ron a subtle nod. He
mouthed, Thank you, girl.
Team Mixer
After dessert rolled out for the Air Cuisine team, the music softened and
the lights dimmed just a touch. Vickie stood at the front near a mounted
digital display excited for some game time.
“Alright team—time to loosen up. Let’s play: Guess That Teammate.”
Margarita, Craig, and Shica stood beside her—each representing their
floor. The screen spun through fun facts submitted earlier in the day. Three
names were displayed with each question to choose from. The team captains
presented the answers for their team.
“Whose family once fostered an iguana named Lizzell Washington.”
As the mixer wrapped up, Craig gave the crew a heads‑up about Day Two:
“Tomorrow we’re covering safety procedures, drills, and emergency exits for
each floor. You’ll also get light homework—make sure you do it. It’s how we
know you’re understanding your job.”
The teams began to filter out, chatting about the day and comparing notes.
After Work
On the bus ride home, Jay had his training packet open on his lap, knocking
out the homework while his earbuds pumped a mellow beat. He was already
thinking ahead—home, a quick shower, then football practice. Every step, every
shift, was part of the bigger picture he saw for himself and he refused to let
anyone or anything get in the way of that.
2:00 p.m. – Air Mart Entrance
As the Train A Chef crew loaded the day’s supplies into their vehicle, they
spotted Moonlight strolling back toward the doors. The sous‑chef who’d dared to
step up and diss the ’70s charmer stayed silent this time, watching as
Moonlight leaned in through the doorway where Vickie and Craig stood—grinning
like he’d just been handed a VIP lunch invitation.
“So… about that plate.”
Chapter 3: After Hours and Inner Drives
Cog City pulsed with a different kind of energy after 3 p.m.—less
structured, more personal. The city’s heartbeat shifted from clocked-in hustle
to off-the-clock ambition, tension, and reflection.
Jay Walker’s Afternoon Grind
Jay stepped off the bus, training packet tucked under his arm, earbuds
humming with mellow bass.
“Let me knock this stuff out so I can head to football practice,” he said to
himself, immediately remembering he needed a quick snack before hitting the
shower.
Inside his apartment, a note on the fridge greeted him in familiar
handwriting:
“If you need a small bite before training, I put a bento box in the fridge
with some rice and chicken. Eat that with your protein shake. I’ll cook when I
get home. — Love, Mom”
Jay smiled. His mom’s notes always hit different. He genuinely appreciated
her help—and looked forward to the day he could buy his parents a home, help
her launch her own nursing business, and support his dad in starting a trucking
company. They’d finally get to enjoy life as owners, building something that
could create jobs and legacy.
After warming up the meal, Jay flipped on the Bronze Buffalo Sports Network
and got pulled into the latest episode of The Erickster—hosted by Eddie
Erickston and his fiery co-host, Jody Jackson.
“Ladies and gentlemen… in an unexpected turn of events, the undisputed
champ, LeRoy Lightning, was arrested on what he says were made-up charges to
make him miss his fight…”
Jay leaned forward, eyes locked on the screen as Jody jumped in to defend
Lightning.
“You know that’s a buncha BS, bro. This man never ever eva eva eva missed a
fight in his life, and now a Badge Patrol Officer pulls him over on the way to
his first fight at his new arena? You already know what it is… and the BPO bumped
into him, so how’s that an assault charge?”
The segment ran long, but Jay stayed glued until the first commercial. The situation stirred something in him—questions about what it meant to be a professional Black athlete, and what challenges might lie ahead. He shook his head, finished his meal, and hopped in the shower. Practice was calling.
Vickie Vanguardi’s Balancing Act
Eleven minutes away, Vickie sat in her car near the daycare, texting her ex.
“Hi Steve, just to double check—are you still picking up the kids from
daycare?”
Five minutes later, Steve replied:
“Why are you asking me that today?”
Vickie stared at the screen, her jaw tightening.
“Are you serious? Today you were supposed to get them and drop them back off
at daycare on Thursday. You told the kids the gameplan and got them
excited—they haven’t seen you in a month.”
Steve responded:
“That was beyond my control. I’m wrapped up with work right now and won’t be
able to get out until later. Can I just pick them up from your place later?
Just give me your address.”
Vickie replied:
“To keep the peace for all of us, I’d rather just try this again tomorrow.
Just know that I’m also busy.”
Steve replied:
“Sounds good, thanks.”
Vickie tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and exhaled. “Dammit,
Steve.” She sat for several minutes, letting music fill the silence until she
felt like herself again. Then she headed inside to pick up Penny and Chase—her
reason for everything.
Doug Weber’s Quiet Rebellion
Two miles down the road, Doug Weber
pulled into the parking lot at Green Gasoline. He’d already put in his twoweeks notice, but muscle memory had him arriving early—until he caught himself.
“Naw, hell naw. Let me chill until
it’s time for me to go in,” he muttered, leaning back in his seat.
Nineteen minutes passed before Mike,
the manager, spotted his car and came striding over.
“Yo!” Mike waved. “What are you
doing in the car when you know I need you?”
Doug glanced at his watch. “What do
you mean?”
“I need you in the store. I pulled
the boxes out so you could jump into stocking,” Mike said.
“I don’t come in for another 30
minutes. I pulled up early to make a few calls,” Doug replied.
“Are you serious?” Mike asked.
“Yep.” Doug tapped his phone.
Mike frowned. “Why not just stay
home if you’re not going to come in early like you used to?”
Doug didn’t flinch. “Instead of
driving all the way home, I came here to park after leaving my first day of
training at my new job. Maybe Troy can come in early if he lives close enough.”
That last line hit hard. Doug had
unknowingly trained Troy—Mike’s nephew—for a supervisor role he’d applied for
twice. A role he was qualified for. A role he was passed over for. That
betrayal had deflated his sail. He wasn’t a company man anymore. He was just
finishing out the clock.
“I’ll be in,” Doug said, dismissing
Mike with a phone call.
As Mike walked away, Doug muttered,
“Yeah, that’s how it’s going to be for the rest of these two weeks. I’m not
helping you make things easier after using me.”
The line clicked.
“What’s up, D?” said Shawn.
“Sitting outside of work,” Doug
replied. “Check this out though…”
Doug recounted the whole scene, and
Shawn laughed. “That’s why people keep leaving. Remember Megan almost swung on
him before she walked out and he called the BPOs?”
Both men cracked up.
Cog City in Motion
As you know, the city moved like it
had somewhere to be.
• T.T.
Franklin rushed home to binge the new season of her favorite show with her
mom.
• Tisa
Chang sat in the library, rehearsing how to tell her mother she’d dropped
out of college and didn’t want the corporate life.
• Ja’Ron
Jones stood in line at a local Black-owned beauty supply store, prepping
for a client’s hair appointment and dreaming of opening the first Black
American male-owned salon in Cog City. His dad agreed to cover half the startup
costs—if Ja’Ron could prove he had the clientele and at least two stylists
ready to rent booths.
• Trent
Jacobs left the gym and headed to the pharmacy to pick up his grandmother’s
medication.
• Maria
Sanchez napped with earplugs in, preparing for a sleepless night of neighbors
arguing.
Meanwhile, Trisha Whitfield
was mid-argument with her boyfriend Corey—Jay’s cousin—over a hypothetical
question about whether he’d open a door for another woman.
“You should only open the door for
me,” Trisha insisted.
“That’s what decent people do,”
Corey replied. “They hold doors. They’ll know I’m a good man. Your good man.”
Trisha liked that answer—but didn’t
let it show. She pivoted to dinner plans, then started complaining again.
“Do you sit around complaining like
this at your new job?” Corey asked.
“You think you’re funny. I just
started today,” Trisha replied.
“They have no idea what they’re
about to go through,” Corey muttered.
“I don’t act like this at work,”
Trisha said.
“So you only act like this with me?”
Corey asked, half-smiling.
“No, act like how?” Trisha shot
back.
“Don’t play dumb,” Corey said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking
about, Bae,” Trisha replied, trying to steer the conversation back to food.
“We’ll see how long you last at Air
Mart,” Corey said, as their lover’s spat rolled on.
Moonrise
Night had fully settled over Cog
City, casting a coolness across storefronts and sidewalks. The city didn’t slow
to a halt—it shifted. From ambition to reflection. From tension to tenderness.
From chaos to calm.
And just as the evening seemed to
quiet…
Moonlight strolled back by Air Mart, standing on the sidewalk, eyes lit with excitement about
what was to come.
“This will be my biggest stage yet,
baby,” he said, gazing at the glowing lights of the vibrant building.
Equipped with a sandwich in one hand and two cold beers in a bag, Moonlight
made his way to his tent tucked between a half wall and the bushes near the
entrance of the plaza next to Air Mart. He glanced at the back of the building,
where the big red LED sign above the store read “Closed”—ready for action in a
month’s time. Then, with a zip of his tent, the view disappeared.
Inside, he cleaned his hands with a washcloth soaked in rubbing alcohol,
prepping for his meal.
“Ooooweee, I forgot how strong this stuff can be,” he said, briefly
unzipping the tent to let in a breath of fresh air as he begins to make a song
out of his words.
He slid in a cassette tape from the late, great James Brown, leaned back in
his tent to enjoy his meal, and let the music carry him into
dreamland.
Chapter 4: Morning Runs and Mixed Signals
Jay Walker was up before the sun.
Headphones on, hoodie zipped, sneakers laced—he hit
the pavement with a steady rhythm, letting the beat guide his stride. The
streets were quiet, just the occasional car and the hum of early risers. His
mind was locked in: football practice, work, future. No distractions.
Back home, he washed up, peeled off his hoodie, and
got to work in the kitchen. Eggs. Turkey sausage. Enough for him and his mom.
He plated the food, left her a note, and downed his protein shake before
jumping in the shower. The day was calling—and he was ready, or so he thought.
Across Cog City
Elsewhere, the morning stirred up the lives of Air Mart staff:
·
Maria Sanchez
woke up to the sound of her neighbor’s bass-heavy playlist and rolled her eyes
before grabbing her earbuds and heading to the kitchen.
·
Trent Jacobs
was already dressed, scrolling through his phone while sipping coffee, mentally
prepping for another day of training.
·
Ja’Ron Jones
was brushing his waves, checking his calendar for client appointments later in
the week.
·
T.T. Franklin
was enjoying breakfast with her mom, already excited to recap about last
night’s episode.
·
Doug Weber was
halfway through a breakfast sandwich, watching the clock tick toward his final
days at Green Gasoline.
·
Vickie Vanguardi
was in her car, taking her kids to daycare with the sunshining from inside the
car.
The new Air Mart commercial had just dropped and she was super excited!
The ad featured sweeping shots of the building, upbeat music, and a voiceover
that sounded like it belonged to a game show host. Vickie loved it.
Morning
Check-In
Inside, the staff gathered for the morning check-in. Craig
gave a few updates before being rushed through the remainder of the briefing by
Vickie. Understanding her excitement, Craig smiled at her desire to share it
with the staff, and stood to the side so that the training screen could be used
to present the commercial.
Vickie stood up front, practically glowing with her hands
clasped together.
“So good morning, Air Mart Cadets!” she beamed. “I was
going to save this for the end of the day, but I thought it’d be a great way to
start things off and boost team spirit. So thank you, Craig, for giving me a
few minutes.”
Craig smiled.
“Didn’t want to break your excitement. A morning boost never hurts.”
Craig smiled and said, “Well, I didn’t want to break
your excitement and it doesn’t hurt having a morning boost.”
Vickie grabbed the
remote. “So team, here’s the first official commercial for Air Mart!”
“Come on down to Air Mart…
Deals are waiting for youuuu…
Come on down to Air Mart… Where the food’s hot and the drinks are co-oooo-oo-oooolll…”
Eyes locked on the screen—even Vickie’s, though she’d watched it several times already. When it ended, she turned to gauge the room.
Some nodded in approval. Others held back laughter.
“So what do you guys think?
Pretty cool to have our first official commercial, huh?”
“It’s alright with me, Boss
Lady,” said Willy.
“It was okay. It’s almost
surreal to see it on TV and we’re standing in it,” said Kim.
“Yeah, it does,” added Sedrick.
“I thought we were gonna pop
up on camera,” Leonard said quietly.
“How? There were no camera
people,” Sedrick replied, sparking laughter from Chris and Leonard.
Chantice glanced over at
the trio, then back at Vickie.
“Anyone else? No need to be
shy,” Vickie prompted.
She immediately glanced
at Ja’Ron—and that was all it took.
He burst out laughing. “I’m
sorry! I’m sorry! It’s just—why did he have to sound like that? He didn’t sing
or nothing, just came in extra cheesy. But it’s nice. It’s cute. I promise.”
The room cracked up. Even
Craig couldn’t hold it in.
The laughter spread like
wildfire, lifting the mood. Vickie shook her head, smiling. “You are a tough
crowd. I thought it was amazing!”
“It’s a nice commercial. I
liked the camera angles and showing off all the parts of the store. I keep
forgetting there’s a carwash in the back. They did that, girl—it’s just the guy
sounds like he’s straight out a cartoon,” said Ja’Ron.
Most agreed, which made
Vickie smile even bigger.
Well, almost everyone. Trisha
was annoyed that Corey hadn’t driven her to work, and she looked at Jay
with a frustrated glare—Corey lied and said he had to take Jay close enough to
work to walk the rest of the way, before taking Jay’s mom to work. So, Jay had
additional smoke aimed at him that he was clueless about.
Meanwhile, the opposite energy came from Chantice and Maria Sanchez, who were admiring Jay’s physique and awkwardly locked eyes afterward with a smile. Trent noticed all three women looking at Jay, and jealousy began to cloud his focus to the point where he missed the instructions before the teams split off.
Floor Assignments
The teams split off to their respective floors:
Base Station Training – Gas Station Clerk Essentials
“Alright team,” Craig
said. “Craig to Trent, are you with us?”
“Yes sir, yes sir. I
just got a little zoned out thinking about all the different areas of Air Mart.
Will people come in to pay for their car washes too?” asked Trent.
“Excellent question.
Yes, they can pay in-store also. That said, today we’re covering register
operations, handling shift change logs, fuel pump monitoring, and emergency
shut-off procedures,” said Craig.
“Emergency shut-off
procedures?” asked Kim.
“Yes. We don’t want
fires, explosions, or someone attempting to steal gas, do we, Kim?” Craig
smiled.
“Hell no—I mean, no.
The fires and explosions part sounds scary,” Kim replied.
“And that’s exactly
what all this training is for. Kim, trust me. Before we officially open, you’ll
know how to shine in your position, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Mr.
Green.”
“You’re welcome,” Craig
said, motioning the team to take their seats.
Craig
was all about Show & Practice.
Step by step with building blocks that become unconscious steps in terms of
completing tasks.
Craig was all about Show
& Practice—step-by-step building blocks that become second nature. He led
the Base Station crew through:
• Register operations and shift change logs
• Fuel pump monitoring and emergency shut-off procedures
• Inventory tracking for snacks, drinks, and convenience
items
• Customer service protocols for late-night and high-traffic
hours
• Safety drills for spills, theft, and emergency exits
• Handling difficult customers without escalation
• Keeping the storefront clean and stocked
“Today, you’re going over all the steps. We’re only going hands-on with
a few, but by Friday I’ll throw several hypothetical situations at you. This
will be common practice so you’re not a fish out of water during the grand
opening,” Craig said.
Though no longer in the military, Craig saw his team as his unit. Their success—or failure—was something he placed squarely on his own shoulders. Even Vickie saw him as her unofficial leader. Craig had been offered the Head Manager position, but turned it down to protect the health of his marriage. He’d been married for a year now, and wasn’t about to neglect his wife and their relationship for a title.
Meanwhile in the Air Cuisine kitchen
T.T. and Monica highlighted
different bullet points in yellow from the “Flammables” section of the Air
Mart: Air Cuisine Regime while sipping energy drinks. Monica asked smart
questions about shift rotations. Chris stayed focused, absorbing everything.
Willy, however, had
thoughts.
“Margarita. Mar-Margarita… I been working in the kitchen for almost 40
damn years. I’ve never in my life had to go through all this stuff, sweetheart.
I know the kitchen like the back of my hand. I still make magic—that’s why I
got the job. I mean, do I really need to sit up and go through all this?”
Margarita respected her
elders and tried to reason with him.
“Just do your best to go
through it, Mr. Willy. I know you know your stuff. If you need anything, just
ask, okay?” she said with a smile. “Highlight only the things you aren’t
familiar with, and I’ll break it down.”
“Okay, I appreciate ya,”
Willy replied.
Margarita immediately
thought of her grandmother Zaida, who had retired early after updated job
policies overwhelmed her. She didn’t want Willy to feel the same.
After reviewing kitchen
safety, Margarita walked the team through plating standards and food safety
protocols—especially those that prevent health code violations. Lunch rush was
right around the corner.
Air
Shop
Calvin and Shica split
training duties—Calvin handled inventory and theft prevention, while Shica
walked the team through customer interaction scenarios and register training.
Sedrick and Chris were
placed in opposite groups. Leonard was kept close to prevent any over-the-top
laughter.
The sense of control was
short-lived. Calvin and Shica spotted the trio ducking their heads, pretending
to take cover.
“What in the world are you
doing, Leonard?” asked Shica.
“Huh? I was just…” Leonard
stood up and looked at the displays.
“You were just doing what they
were doing. What is that?”
“I figured they were shooting
blasters, so I was just taking cover,” Leonard said, realizing how bad that
sounded. “It’s just that we’re close to lunch time and you know how that goes.”
Calvin pulled the
jokesters aside.
“Look, I get it—you’re free
spirits, and that lines up perfectly with Air Shop and the kind of customers
we’ll interact with. Your experience with anime, games, and tech in vast. Just
keep professionalism in mind. Laughing and having a good time has to fall
within the code of conduct. Cool?”
They agreed, though their
smiles made Calvin wonder if they were just agreeing to agree.
“So, can we go get ready for
lunch?” asked Chris.
Calvin nodded, collecting the training materials and marking the staff schedules for lunch.
Moonlight’s
Morning
Moonlight woke up with a grin.
“Looks like I arrived in a new day, baby,” he said,
stretching inside his tent.
He grabbed his bag loaded with his toiletries, and headed
to a nearby store to wash his face and brush his teeth. After a quick cleanup
and a bathroom stop, he exchanged his toiletry bag for his bag of mix tapes and
made his way toward Air Mart, humming a tune.
Lunch
Break
As trays rolled out and the
dining area filled, Moonlight popped up like clockwork.
“So what we eating today? I
wanna make sure I bring my appetite at 2,” he said, grinning at the staff.
Craig spotted him and jogged
over before Moonlight could press the Train A Chef team.
“Moonlight,” Craig said
calmly, “we can’t make this a daily thing. Our staff need to eat, and it’s not
company policy to give out food regularly. I’m just being real, brotha. I don’t
want you getting your hopes up thinking there’ll always be something at 2,
okay?”
Moonlight nodded, still
smiling. “I feel you, brotha. I just had to ask.”
“Look, I’ll see if there’s
anything left and try to put it aside—but I can’t promise anything. That’s all
I’m saying.”
Moonlight tipped his hat.
“My man! I appreciate that. You a good brotha. Here, on the house.” He handed
Craig one of his tapes before heading off toward the neighboring plaza.
Craig slipped the tape
into his pocket and headed to the manager’s office. Vickie looked up
from her desk.
“Moonlight?” she asked.
“Moonlight,” Craig
confirmed.
Vickie leaned back in her
chair. “What do you want to do? I don’t think we need the badge patrol.”
Craig shook his
head. “I’ll figure something out, but definitely not that. Right now, we’re
just getting a better understanding. Luckily, he’s sensible.” Meanwhile, Air
Cuisine was buzzing. Staff shared stories, swapped jokes, debated who was
single, and scoped out seating arrangements. Trisha immediately got on her
phone to ask her boyfriend if he was picking her up from work—or picking up
Corey again. She knew it would spark an argument over text. That was the point.
“I’m so hungry, it feels like my throat growling,” said Doug.
“Your
throat’s growling?” Leonard chuckled, clearly tickled by the comment. “Yeah, I
think we should have lunch earlier.”
“That
would suck,” Travis chimed in. “We’ve got a half day for these trainings—could
you imagine getting back to packets after lunch and that little activity we do
after?”
Leonard
nodded slowly. “Yeah, that would suck.”
Doug
stared out the massive window. “I have to eat a better breakfast. That’s why
I’m hungry.”
Even
after placing their orders and receiving appetizers, the debate didn’t stop.
“I’d
take a lunch and a nap, then do the team mixer,” said Chris Rossi, trying to
sweeten the pot.
“Oh
heck yeah, everyone would love that,” Sedrick agreed.
“It
wouldn’t make sense on the job. That’s like getting two hours to eat and nap,”
Travis argued.
“Come
on, Travis. I bet you would love something like that, wouldn’t you?” Sedrick
teased.
“It’s
not real,” Travis replied.
“But
if it was, you would take it, wouldn’t you?” Sedrick pressed.
“Of
course,” said Travis.
“Alright
then, there we go,” Sedrick declared.
“But
it’s not real,” Travis repeated.
“But
still,” Chris Rossi laughed.
“Just
give it up. You lost,” Leonard said.
“Lost
what though? It’s not real. It’s just not real, guys,” Travis insisted.
“You
agreed, so you lost. It’s over,” said Chris.
The banter drew an amused audience from nearby tables,
enjoying appetizers while waiting on their meals. It was also a moment where
Chris Mission and Tisa Chang found space to talk, their conversation unfolding
gently in the background.
The first wave of
staff received their meals: Nature’s nachos (vegetarian), Chef’s Celebration
salad, meat loaf and mashed potatoes, Cloud Burgers
with Thunder Fries, surf & turf with Thunder Fries. Dessert
options included Grandma’s Brookies, Super Duo Milkshakes, and Apple Pie Delight.
Team
Mixer
After lunch, the staff gathered for the end-of-day team-building
game. Vickie pulled up a trivia board with more fun facts about the crew.
“Which team member once played football in high school and is
currently aiming for a spot on the Cog City Crusaders?”
The screen flashed three names. Jay’s was one of them—and was
immediately answered.
Trent leaned over to Monica
and said, “He probably thinks he’s the star of the gas station.”
The comment hung in the air.
Jay didn’t respond—but Craig
did.
“We’re not here to
disrespect each other,” Craig said firmly. “We’re here to work as a team.
Remember that.”
The game
continued, but the tension lingered.
End
of Shift
As the day wrapped up, the teams marked the sign-out chart and headed toward
the exit. That’s when Jay caught up to Trent outside.
“I’m
saying this one time and one time only—I’m here to handle my business,” Jay
said, voice steady. “Not to play around with another grown man, so don’t play
me. I got enough on my plate.”
Trent
raised his eyebrows but didn’t say a word. Jay turned, placed his earbuds in,
and walked off.
Several
team members saw the confrontation, but it happened so quickly they weren’t
sure how to react.
“Young
brotha, young brotha,” said Moonlight, trying to get Jay’s attention as he
walked toward the entrance where Trent and other staff stood talking and
loading into vehicles.
Jay
didn’t hear him. He was already off to the next objective.
Moonlight
shrugged it off and made his way over to Trent.
“What’s
going on with ya, young man?”
“How’s
it going, sir?” asked Trent.
“I’m
good. Is brotha Craig around?” Moonlight asked.
“You
mean my manager Craig Green?”
“Yeah.
He told me to stop by.”
“I’ll
get him,” said Trent.
“My
man,” Moonlight replied.
With
the Air Mart staff standing outside, Moonlight took the opportunity to try and
sell a few tapes and charm the ladies.
“I
got music that’ll get you moving. Five dollars a pop. Anyone want to check out
my new hum-hop track? What? No takers?”
The
remaining staff either went back inside to wait for their rides or got on their
phones.
“Tough
crowd, but you’ll see,” Moonlight said as Craig walked out the door with a
meal—and another reminder.
“Remember,
this can’t be an everyday occurrence,” Craig said.
Moonlight
nodded. “Yeah, I know, brotha. I appreciate it. It’s better than it going
in the trash though. It’s almost like I’m recycling it for you.”
Craig
gave a half-smile, a nod, and walked back inside to prepare training packets
for the following day.
Moonlight
walked down the street to grab a beer. With his food in hand, mixtapes in tote,
he wondered when he’d sell enough of his music to finally get on his feet.
Tomorrow’s a new day with new possibilities to try again.
Chapter 5: Quiet Nights and Heavy Thoughts
Steve's text came through just as Vickie was pulling out of the Air Mart lot.
The knot in her shoulders loosened
instantly. A night without the kids meant a night to breathe.
She swung into Chompy’s grocery
store, grabbing a cart with a light pep in her step. Steak. Premade salad.
Mashed potatoes. And a bottle of wine to seal the deal.
The wine was on the top shelf as
usual.
“I hope this wine doesn’t come
crashing down on me one of these days,” Vickie muttered, stretching before
giving up and flagging down an employee.
“I keep telling them everybody isn’t
tall, and they still want us to stock the wine up here,” the young Chompy’s
worker said, shaking his head as he handed her the bottle.
“As a mom, I get it to some extent,”
Vickie replied with a small smile. “But you’re right—not everyone is that
tall.”
She tucked the bottle into her cart
and finished her shopping, heading toward the checkout. For tonight, she’d have
her steak, her wine, and her quiet. But as she pushed the cart forward, she
couldn’t help but think how nice it might be to share that quiet with someone
else. Her heart made a habit of reminding her that she wanted more than just a
meal for one, and she wasn’t referring to the kids.
If only her relaxing evening were
something all the staff could enjoy.
That's that BS
Several miles away, Doug pulled up
to Green Gasoline at his scheduled time, only to see the manager’s car sitting
boldly in his usual spot.
“Here we go with this BS. We got a
whole lot and he all of a sudden wants to park here? Alright, Mike,” Doug
muttered, sliding into another space. The games had begun—Mike was clearly
trying to annoy him after yesterday’s encounter.
Despite the petty move, Doug stepped
out of his car cool, showing no signs of being rattled.
Like clockwork, Mike leaned out the
door, waiting like he’d just scored a victory.
“Lot was full earlier,” Mike
claimed.
Doug glanced at the empty spaces,
shrugged, and said, “It’s all good. Gotta clock
in.”
The nonchalant chess move landed. Mike blinked, caught off
guard by the chill response. Whether the lot was full or not, Doug knew the
truth—Mike opened the store, so he’d always be the first car on the lot. This
was just the start of two weeks of petty.
“Yep, okay. Ahhh, I’ve gotta run.
Ahhh, Troy should be here in a few hours. Shawn’s already here, just keep an
eye out for the fuel truck—they’re running late,” Mike said as Shawn stepped
out of the breakroom, adjusting his uniform.
“Coo,” Doug replied, heading to the
back.
“What up, D?” Shawn greeted, and the
two locked into their usual coded handshake.
“Chillin. I’ll be back out. Let me
get on this clock,” Doug said, sliding quickly into the breakroom and clocking
in before returning to catch his boy up on the manager’s antics.
Doug came out of the breakroom with
a smirk, settling onto the second stool
behind the counter.
“Whassup?” Shawn asked, ready to
chop it up.
Doug looked out the window at the
street corner, where Mike’s car sat at the red light. He shook his head.
“So you know how I usually park over
by the ice machine, right?” Doug asked.
“Yeah. Whassup?” Shawn replied.
“I pull up and Mike got his damn car
in the spot.”
“Mike got problems, bruh. I didn’t
even realize it, but I noticed his car wasn’t where it usually was,” Shawn
said.
“Yeah, ‘cause he wanted to get back
at me for not clocking in early yesterday. Like I had to. Troy could’ve came in
early. But you know he was watching me when I pulled up, right?” Doug said.
“For real? I don’t like that,” Shawn
said, visibly annoyed.
“Yeah. He popped out the door before
I even came in, talking about the lot was full.” Doug gave Shawn a side-eye.
“Damn lie. He opens the store. So
how in the hell…” Shawn threw his hands up in disgust.
“Exactly. And he wouldn’t have told
me if it wasn’t on purpose. He was waiting for me to get there just to say that
and see my reaction. Shows how much of a child he is. It’s a parking spot—it’s
not coming out my check,” Doug said.
Shawn laughed in agreement. “Heck
yeah. That paycheck still coming in full, ya dig?!”
“For real for real,” Doug said.
“I wish you didn’t have to go, bro.
I can’t stand working with Troy. He needs help with everything. I know he’s
knew but damn. I’m thinking about leaving too,” Shawn admitted.
“I can put in a word for you at Air
Mart. There’s other spots, like in the car
wash area, but I don’t know if they’re all filled,” Doug said.
“Shoooo, if I get the job, Green
Gasoline owes me PTO anyway. I’ll just bounce,” Shawn said.
“Mike might not let that slide,”
Doug warned.
“If I use the PTO and never come
back, they still gotta cut my check,” Shawn said.
“I’d say let them know anyway so you
can use the reference if you need it. He plans to do a quick hire after a labor
pool work trial on my last day. He can do the same with you,” Doug said.
“Aiight, hook me up,” Shawn nodded.
Doug leaned back, smirk back on his
face, and started filling Shawn in on Air Mart’s innovative features—and the
cast of characters he’d soon be working with if things lined up.
Later That Afternoon
Downtown, a mile away from the Tram station, Trent Jacobs found his release
at the skate park. He dropped into the
bowl and let his board fly—kickflips,
grinds, spins—each trick a way to burn off the tension from earlier with Jay.
By the time he stopped, sweat dripped down his face, but the frustration was
gone. He felt even better as the kids ran over to him asking questions and giving
fist bumps.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Craig Green walked into his home
with flowers in hand. His wife’s face
lit up the moment she saw him.
“You’re sweet,” she said, pulling him close as she asked about his day.
The rest didn’t need words—newlyweds had their own language.
Later That Evening
Across town, Chantice was just arriving home after paying bills. She
slid a container of oxtails with red beans and rice into the microwave before stepping into the shower.
The steam rose around her as she thought about the day she’d cook for her
husband and children—something she often pictured when she wanted to remind
herself what she was working toward.
After her shower, she went through her skin and hair ritual, then grabbed her warmed plate and settled in for the night, comfort food in hand and quiet dreams ahead.
Across Cog City, the night began to stretch on as Chris Mission and Tisa Chang stayed on the phone for hours. They bounced between topics—video games, anime, favorite food spots—and by the end of the call, they’d already made plans to hit a Korean Hot Pot restaurant after payday. For dessert, the choice was easy, Netty Lou’s Black American Cuisine for pie.
A few blocks away from Air Mart, Kim Facillo was settling into her
evening class at Brenda Lee’s Beauty School. Between mannequin heads and curling irons, she chatted with classmates
about her new job.
“Some of those guys you work with cute?” one asked.
Kim smirked. “A couple. My co-worker Jay is sexy A-F.”
“Ooo, get his number,” another dared.
“He’s supposed to ask me,” Kim replied, brushing it off. “And besides, we work
together. I don’t even know if he sees me that way.”
The conversation drifted back to hair techniques as their teacher made her rounds, but Kim’s smile lingered longer than she wanted to admit.
And in a quiet corner of the plaza, Moonlight sat in his tent with an
old photo album spread across his lap.
Family. Friends. Many gone now.
Sometimes he felt like he was trapped in the future, unable to return to the
era where he belonged.
He closed the album before the weight of it got too heavy, laid back, and
let sleep take him away.
Special Note:
I hope this story brings you laughter and inspiration in equal measure—and that it opens your eyes to new perspectives and everyday nuances that spark positive change in your life. See you next week! - R. A. Franklin
