"Did your manager just finish reprimanding you for something? You don't look particularly thrilled."
Taking her place on a swiveling seat, and littering the counter with spreads of paper sheets, a familiar patron entered, outfitted in every array of modesty that did absolutely nothing to deemphasize her natural, overwhelming charm.
Even with the world's most dullest-looking coat, and the drabbiest boots this side of ghastly, or the many crooked hazel strands poking out of her bunned-up hair, Irene remained ever the head-turner and heart-stealer she always was.
"Should I talk to him?" She offered, batting sunken, sleep-deprived eyes that somehow only added more to her appeal. "I could mention your impeccable customer service, if it'll help."
"Just Nick being Nick," I waved it off, already feeling lighter inside from the sight of her. "Don't worry, my employment isn't in any serious jeopardy."
