It started with the tip jar.
A week ago, someone dropped in a folded twenty with a smiley face drawn on it. "For the girl who made my Monday bearable," the customer had said.
Ellie had grinned the rest of the shift. Dani had given her a thumbs-up. Kara had teased, "Guess someone's got a crush."
Today, the jar sat nearly empty.
And Dani hadn't said anything to her all morning.
"Try not to talk too much to customers," Dani muttered as she walked past Ellie toward the register.
Ellie blinked. "What?"
Dani didn't look back. "You tend to overshare. Just... keep it professional."
The words stung more than they should have. Ellie hadn't thought she was oversharing. She was just... being herself.
She turned back to the espresso machine and quietly watched the foam rise.
On break, Ellie found the bench by the alley already taken.
Kara and Bri were laughing, heads together, sharing something on Kara's phone. Ellie approached with a hopeful smile.
"Hey, what's so funny?"
Kara hesitated. "Oh. Nothing really. Just—something from this guy I'm seeing."
Bri snorted. "Yeah. A guy who texts her poems. Voluntarily."
Ellie laughed softly. "That's cute. Maybe I should text mine a sonnet or two."
Bri gave her a look. "You have a guy now?"
Ellie hesitated. "Sort of. We're just... talking. He's a writer."
Kara raised an eyebrow. "So, imaginary."
They both laughed. It was light. It wasn't meant to wound.
But Ellie didn't sit with them.
That night, she stayed later to clean the coffee machines, even though it wasn't her shift. Dani barely acknowledged her when she left.
She walked home under gray clouds and passed by a flower shop where the same daisies she once loved now looked a little too bright, a little too fake.
When she got home, she didn't open her phone.
She just sat on the couch, shoes still on, staring at nothing.
The worst part wasn't that she felt left out.
It was that no one noticed she was missing.
Ellie arrived at the café fifteen minutes early.
She used to come early because she loved the quiet before the grind. The empty chairs, the hum of the fridges, the sun slicing through the glass windows.
Now, she just didn't want to walk in when everyone else did.
She didn't want to feel them not noticing her again.
She clocked in quietly and started setting up the pastry counter. Kara passed behind her with a tray and didn't say hi.
Dani gave instructions in clipped phrases, but not once did she look Ellie in the eye.
It was like being surrounded by fog — you could see shapes, but not faces.
By noon, Ellie had made six lattes, burned her finger twice, and spilled oat milk down her apron.
"Maybe... take your break now?" Dani said softly, without a smile.
Ellie nodded, biting back tears.
The break room smelled like dust and vanilla.
She opened her locker without thinking. A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
At first, she thought it was a receipt.
But then she read it.
"Spacey. Sweet. Kind of clingy?"
No handwriting she recognized. No name. No smiley face.
Just those words.
She held the paper in her hand for a long time. The edges were soft, worn — like maybe it had been folded and unfolded a few times before someone slipped it in.
It wasn't even cruel. That's what made it worse.
It was just... dismissive.
She crumpled it, stuffed it deep into her coat pocket, and left the café without finishing her break.
That night, she didn't cry.
She just sat on the floor in her living room, back against the couch, legs curled up beneath her, staring into the glow of her phone.
Then she typed.
Ellie:
Ever feel like no one really wants you? They just... tolerate you?
Max:
Yes. And if I'm being honest... it's the worst kind of loneliness.
Ellie:
Like being surrounded by people and still feeling invisible.
Max:
Exactly. It's like being the background music at a party. You're there, but no one's really listening.
Ellie:
Someone left a note in my locker today. Not mean, just... quietly cruel.
Max:
Want to talk about it?
Ellie:
It said: "Spacey. Sweet. Kind of clingy."
A pause.
Max:
That's not a criticism. That's a compliment written by a coward.
Ellie:
How?
Max:
"Spacey" means your mind wanders that's what makes you creative. "Sweet" means you care too much, and that's rare. "Clingy"? That's code for: "You made me feel something, and I wasn't ready for it."
Ellie stared at the screen.
Max:
You don't need to stop being yourself just because some people can't carry the weight of kindness.
Ellie:
Why do your words feel like warm tea and a slap in the face at the same time?
Max:
Because I've been both the tea and the slapped.
A small laugh escaped her lips. And then, without warning, she started to cry.
But it was the kind of crying that felt like... unraveling in the right direction.