Ch: 6 [Night Shift]

The gas station was bathed in the soft, artificial glow of fluorescent lights as I arrived for my late-night shift. The air was crisp, carrying a hint of gasoline and the distant hum of passing cars. I donned the uniform provided by the station – a worn-out polo shirt and a cap – and greeted the cashier, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes.

"Hey, Travis," she greeted me with a tired smile. "It's gonna be a quiet night, I think."

"Quiet's good," I replied, mustering a smile of my own. "Less trouble to deal with."

As the night settled in, I found myself immersed in the routine tasks that came with the job – restocking shelves, assisting customers, and occasionally manning the cash register. The hours passed slowly, punctuated by the occasional ringing of the bell above the door as customers entered and left.

The monotony of the job provided a stark contrast to the events of the day – the encounter with my father, the mysterious girl, and the banter with my friends. It was almost as if I had stepped into a different world, one where responsibilities and financial worries took precedence over everything else.

As I restocked a shelf with various snacks and drinks, my thoughts inevitably turned to my father. Seeing him after all these years had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions – anger, resentment, confusion, and a lingering sense of abandonment. The memory of his departure, of him walking away without a second glance, still haunted me.

I clenched my fists, trying to push aside the anger that threatened to consume me. But the wounds were still fresh, the scars still tender. The years had done little to dull the pain of being left behind by the one person who was supposed to be my family.

My gaze shifted to the cash register, where the bills from today's shift were neatly stacked. It was a constant reminder of the reality I faced – the need to earn money, to make ends meet, to survive. The weight of responsibility was a heavy burden, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy for those who didn't have to worry about money.

After restocking, I went behind the cash register and sat on the small chair. It's already 10:00 pm. The number of people coming in has decreased as compared to the evening.

Suddenly, the bell above the door rang, signaling the entrance of a customer. I looked up to see a tired-looking man walking in, his eyes weary from a long day's work. He grabbed a bottle of water and approached the counter, offering me a nod of acknowledgment.

"Long day, huh?" I asked as I scanned the bottle.

The man chuckled, a hint of exhaustion in his voice, "You have no idea. The construction site's been a nightmare lately."

I nodded in understanding as I rang up the purchase, "Just how late do you guys work? It's already over 10 pm."

He sighed, leaning on the counter as he replied, "Sometimes we're out there until the early hours of the morning, trying to get things done before the deadline. It's tough, but it pays the bills."

"Yeah, I get that," I said, handing him the receipt. "Gotta do what you gotta do."

He gave me a tired smile, taking the receipt and tucking it into his pocket. "Exactly. You know, I used to be in college too, just like you guys."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his comment. "Really? What were you studying?"

"Engineering. You see, my Quirk allows me to create blueprints in my head and I can project them in 3D models, I wanted to be a tech hero," he replied with a hint of nostalgia. "But life had other plans, and I ended up here. Sometimes I wonder how different things could've been if I had pursued that path."

I leaned on the counter, my curiosity getting the best of me. "So, what happened? Why did you switch?"

He let out a sigh, his gaze distant. "Life threw some curveballs, you know? Family responsibilities, financial constraints – they pushed me to make a choice. I had to start working to support my family, and before I knew it, I was knee-deep in construction projects."

The man's story resonated with me on a personal level. It was a familiar narrative – dreams and aspirations pushed aside by the harsh realities of life. I couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for him, knowing that I, too, had sacrificed certain dreams for the sake of survival.

"Yeah, life has a way of steering us in unexpected directions," I said, my voice tinged with understanding.

He nodded, a wistful smile on his face. "But you know, there are moments when I wonder what could've been. I look at my daughter now, and I hope that she'll have the chance to chase her dreams. Maybe she'll be the one to achieve what I couldn't."

So, he is working hard for his family so that his daughter can chase her dreams. And on the other side, my family...

I sat in silence, absorbing his words. His story was a reminder that life's path was often a complex interplay of choices and circumstances. It was easy to judge others based on the decisions they made, but the truth was that we were all products of our experiences and the cards we were dealt.

"It seems you are a good father," I finally replied.

"Well, I'm trying my best," he said with a chuckle. "I don't know if it's enough, and sometimes I wonder if I am making the right choices. But as long as I'm breathing, I'll keep doing what I can to make sure she's safe and happy."

After a pause, he chuckled.

"Hahaha. Look at me babbling like an old man. I'm sorry for rambling, kid. I didn't mean to bore you with my life story."

I smiled, shaking my head. "No, it's fine. Just make sure you don't overwork yourself or your daughter will have a hard time chasing her dreams, right?"

He laughed, the sound hearty and warm. "You're right, I guess I do tend to get carried away. But I'll try to remember that."

I watched as he left, his silhouette disappearing into the night. As I returned to my tasks, I couldn't help but think about his words. The sacrifices he made, the dreams he gave up on – they weighed heavily on my mind.

The rest of the night passed by in a blur as I pondered the implications of his story. The cycle of sacrifice and loss seemed to repeat itself over and over again, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of melancholy. It was as if life itself was conspiring against those who dared to dream.

I wondered if his daughter would ever be able to achieve her dreams. No, I am sure she will be able to fulfill her dreams, she has her family backing her up.

[5:00 AM]

I stretched my arms and a large yawn escaped my mouth. My duty is over. Granny Lina entered the shop.

"How was the night?" She asked.

Granny Lina, the owner of the gas station, was a kind and wise woman who had seen her fair share of life's struggles. Her presence brought a sense of comfort and familiarity to the otherwise mundane surroundings.

I leaned against the counter, rubbing my tired eyes. "It was quiet, as usual. Not much going on."

She nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. "Well, at least you'll have the day to rest now. You should head back to your dorm and get some sleep."

"I will, Granny Lina," I replied with a grateful smile. "Thanks for letting me work the night shifts."

"Anytime, dear. You're a hard worker, and I appreciate your help," she said with a warm smile.

I gathered my belongings and bid farewell to Granny Lina. As I stepped out of the gas station and into the early morning light, it made me flinch a bit. It's too bright for my tired eyes.

The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden hue over the world around me. I walked back to the dormitory with heavy footsteps, my exhaustion catching up to me. The events of the day, the encounter with my father, and the late-night reflections had left me emotionally drained.

The dormitory building loomed ahead, its familiar structure a comforting sight. I climbed the stairs to my floor, each step a reminder of the weight I carried – the responsibilities, the unanswered questions, and the desire for a different path.

As I entered my room, the familiar scent of my own space enveloped me. The room was small but cozy, adorned with posters of my favorite bands and characters from the comic books that provided an escape from reality.

I collapsed onto my bed, my body craving the rest it so desperately needed. But as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind refused to quiet down. The memories of the day replayed in my head, each scene like a puzzle piece that refused to fit into place.

Who was the mysterious girl accompanying my father? What brought him back into my life after all these years? And most importantly, why did I feel a strange connection to that girl – a connection rooted in a half-forgotten memory?

I closed my eyes, hoping that sleep would provide some respite from the thoughts that plagued me.