Grinding Side by Side

My phone was still in my hand when I woke up, face-down on the blanket in yesterday's jeans. The screen had gone dark, but I could still feel the echo of Elias's voice in my ears—his off-key singing, the warmth in his teasing, the way he somehow made everything feel... lighter.

I blinked at the sunlight sneaking through the blinds and let out a groan.

Another day. Another shift.

I rolled onto my back and unlocked my phone. Two new texts from Elias.

ELIAS:

You asleep or still fighting espresso machines in your dreams?

ELIAS:

If you need me, I'm still awake. Not sleeping. Obviously. Because... drama. Again.

I smiled before I could help it. Of course he wasn't asleep. Of course there was drama.

ME:

I passed out mid-scroll, sorry. Tell your house to calm down next time 😩☕Also, if I am part espresso now, does that make me elite?

I tossed the phone beside me and stared at the ceiling for a minute. My room was small, and the corners felt like they were closing in. Faint patches of paint were peeling near the window. My apron hung from the back of a chair like it was already waiting to drag me back to the café.

I sat up slowly. My limbs felt like they belonged to someone else—heavier, duller, like they'd soaked in exhaustion overnight.

I should be used to this by now.But lately, it feels like I'm not pushing forward. Just holding everything up.

I got dressed in silence: jeans, sneakers, apron. Hair up, half-brushed. No time for anything more. I paused at the mirror—my eyes looked sunken, tired, older than 18.

Downstairs, my dad was nowhere to be seen. Probably already off chasing another business deal. Probably didn't even realize I came home late last night.

I grabbed a banana on the way out and stepped into the sunlight.

The café buzzed the moment I stepped inside. The usual chorus of coffee grinders, bell dings, half-shouted orders, and machines hissing like they were mad at the world.

"You're late," my manager, April, snapped without even looking up from her tablet.

"Morning to you too," I muttered under my breath, tying my apron and heading to the back.

I didn't bother defending myself. There was no point. If I was early, I was invisible. If I was late, I was the problem.

At the register, I moved on autopilot. "Hi, what can I get started for you?""Grande iced oat milk caramel whatever.""Coming right up."

I could make these drinks in my sleep.Actually, I probably have made them in my sleep.

Halfway through my shift, during my break, I sat outside on the curb with my back against the alley wall. The sky was too blue. I hated when it was this blue—it made me feel like I should be somewhere else. Doing something more.

My phone buzzed again.

ELIAS:

Surviving or ascending to espresso deity yet?

I snorted and called him.

"Ermelinda," he answered dramatically. "Queen of caffeine. Ruler of the beans."

"You're ridiculous," I said, cracking a tired smile.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

I leaned back and closed my eyes. "You good? You sounded weird last night."

He hesitated. "Yeah, it's nothing. Just the usual."

"...Fighting again?"

A beat of silence. "Yeah. Loud enough for the neighbors to sue us for emotional damage."

I chuckled softly, but my heart ached for him. "That bad?"

"They said some stuff. Same stuff, different night. It's like… I'm wallpaper in my own house. Just there to decorate the idea of a perfect family."

There it was—something real behind his jokes.

"I get that," I said. "I feel like furniture sometimes. Like my only value is how much I can carry."

Another silence, but a comfortable one this time.

"You ever think about just… leaving?" he asked quietly.

"Every day," I replied.

But where would I even go? I can't leave until I earn my way out.And that means not telling Elias about the scholarship. Not yet.

"You still there?" he asked after a second.

"Yeah," I said. "Just thinking."

By the time we hung up, I felt a little steadier. Just enough to face the rest of my shift.

Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be easier. But at least I knew I wasn't the only one dragging myself through it.