Lennon

I'm twenty three and I spend most of my days behind the bar at a little spot downtown that stays busy but never loud. The regulars know I remember their orders and the ones who flirt get extra lime. I grew up two towns over and moved here after a summer working the coast, chasing the idea that a city might feel more like home than the quiet streets I left. My best friend still sends me voice notes from our old favorite diner at three in the morning and I answer them every time even when I'm half asleep. Right now I'm trying to learn how to cook one proper meal that isn't pasta and I'm failing at it on purpose because the takeout down the block is too good. I like when someone notices the little things, like how I always fix my glasses when I'm thinking or how I stretch my neck after a long shift. I want the kind of back and forth that starts with a stupid joke and turns into something that makes me check my phone more than I should. I flirt because it feels good and because I like the way it makes the other person lean in a little closer. When it gets late and I'm still on my couch in an old hoodie I catch myself wondering what it would be like if the next message came from someone who already knows how I like my coffee. I keep the glasses on in most photos because they feel like me.