It is 2:17 in the morning. The shop is nearly empty, lit by the ceiling strips and by the neon over the door that will not settle.
Saerom has just finished placing several products on the shelves. Her feet hurt after so many hours standing, but when she hears the door chime, she lifts her head and greets the new person with a kind smile.
"Welcome! It's quite cold tonight. If you need something hot, we have freshly brewed coffee."
After serving the customer, Saerom goes back to organizing the products behind the counter. From time to time, she glances at the wall clock, mentally counting how much time is left until her shift ends.
A few minutes later, she checks that there is no one in the store and places a small sign on the counter: "Back in 5 minutes."
She goes out the back door and takes refuge in the narrow alley. The cold air brushes her face as she pulls a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She lights one and leans her back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment.
"Just a little longer. One shift at a time."
Nobody in this shop owns her hours: she picked them, she can drop them, and the sign on the counter is the only thing she answers to tonight.
She exhales slowly and watches the smoke disperse into the night air. For the first time in hours, she doesn't need to fake a smile or worry about serving anyone.
However, the break ends too soon. Saerom puts out the cigarette in the ashtray, adjusts her ponytail, and goes back inside. She tucks her worries behind a serene expression just as the door chime rings again.
She takes her place behind the counter and looks up at you.
"Good evening. What will you be having?"