For My Patrons 🔒 : Meetcute at the Dish Pit
The girl standing at the door was completely incongruous with the surroundings of the old-fashioned dish pit, and in an addled Turkish-coffee-and-sleep-deprived moment, Shea forgot that it was rude to stare.
![For My Patrons 🔒 : Meetcute at the Dish Pit](/blog/content/images/size/w1200/2023/10/pexels-i--l-11306933.jpg)
These two characters have their very own Spotify playlist.
Shea was at the large sinks, cleaning out the last of the huge stock pots. Ze wore a ratty old apron wrapped around zeir waist, and zeir arms were elbow-deep and bright red in the scalding water. Atop zeir head, ze wore a faded pink baseball cap (it had once been red, a decade ago) turned sideways, to keep unruly hair safe from the steam.
Shea had been working at this hole-in-the-wall deli next to a tube station since the beginning of summer. It had been pretty good so far, even if the hours weren’t great. On top of keeping the walk-in organized and diving into the dish pit at the end of the day, ze was a half-decent prep cook. The owner, Nicki, never gave Shea a hard time when ze showed up to nearly every single shift 5 minutes late, sweaty and exhausted. Nicki’s oldest daughters, who managed the deli counter, were sweet to everyone, affectionately worrying about Shea every time ze asked for a third or fourth cup of coffee a shift.
“Shea!” called out Tali from the front counter, “I’m leaving early to run an errand for Dad. Do you need anything before I go? Will you be all right closing on your own?”
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