He’d loved her since their first shift together at The Greasy Chicken, hyper-aware of her presence, her laugh, the twist of blond hair under the net, then smiling at the white deodorant smudge on her tank top which meant maybe she wasn’t a goddess, meant maybe he had a chance.

Amy is a Minnesota-based writer in love with the short form. Find her at ashortgirl.com and on Instagram @ashortgirlwrites.