He called me “bro.” I wished he meant something more.
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Date: November 9th, 2024 9:37 AM Author: alcoholic ocher shitlib
It was near closing, the kind of quiet that makes you notice every little sound. I was restocking frozen peas when he walked in—tall, confident, wearing a perfectly-fitted hoodie. Chad.
“Hey, man,” he said, smiling. “You know where the protein powder is?” His voice was smooth, effortless, like he belonged anywhere he went.
I pointed him to aisle 5, and as he turned to leave, he said, “Thanks, bro.” Bro.
I stood there for a moment, letting it sink in. I knew it didn’t mean anything, but I wanted it to. I imagined Chad lingering, asking about my day, maybe laughing at one of my bad jokes. But he didn’t. He just walked away.
Finished my shift, went home, and stared at my reflection in the microwave door. Whispered, “Yes, friend. This is fine.”
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630791&forum_id=2Elisa#48314526) |
Date: December 18th, 2024 3:09 AM Author: cheese-eating saffron dilemma half-breed
This happened to me many times IRL. A cute Chad would come in around closing, almost always alone. Sometimes he'd be coming from "the gym" and I could smell the musk and sweat on his perfect, sculpted body. I'd usually fumble my words, screw up the transaction, and then awkwardly say goodnight. The worst was when he'd give me that "Are you okay, bro?" look.
I'm fine, I thought to myself.
I'm fine.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630791&forum_id=2Elisa#48460876) |
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Date: December 18th, 2024 3:12 AM Author: alcoholic ocher shitlib
"Are you okay, bro?" echoed in the empty aisles long after closing, like a question left for ghosts.
You think it was for you, but it wasn’t. It was for the space between who you are and who you think Chad is—two strangers, circling shelves of powdered illusions.
The worst part isn’t that you’re not "fine."
It’s that maybe he isn’t, either.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630791&forum_id=2Elisa#48460885) |
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