After Sara and her friends leave I expect to spend the rest of the night in unremarkable fashion. The cafe closes at 11 and now I'm considering staying until then. Why not? I think to myself. I've never been here this late before, but I wouldn't mind spending every Friday night this semester like this. The barista closing out the night and I are getting along. I've never seen him before. He told me he only works nights.
"What do you do during the day?"
"I go thrifting. It takes up most my time. If I can find something vintage, I can get it for like 2 bucks and sell it on ebay for over 50."
He had gone to New York for art school. He'd gotten his degree but spent the couple years after broke without an art-related job.
"New York's an expensive place to be doing that. So I moved back here. It's not that bad to be broke here."
Maybe it's because he talks to so many people here, a lot of them girls, that my usual aversion to talking to guys is absent. I rather feel comfortable. I think it's because Kris, that's his name, doesn't ooze of pressure, that suffocating burden that usually comes with guys. The pressure to speed things along. The pressure to be as they expect me to be.
"Do you work tomorrow?"
Kris nods while leaning over the counter. "I usually have Saturday's off, but Chelsea's out of town this weekend."
"Not out of benevolence. I just want the money." He smirks. "You coming in tomorrow? I've never seen you in here actually."
"Not tomorrow. I'm going to my friend's show. She's dancing in a play."
"I really dig theater. I live here but never go the student shows. You should tell me the next time your friend's performing. I need like a social reason to show up. Cause like when I actually go, I really enjoy myself. But I can never get myself to go."