Tim relaxed on the soft grass of the pond bank, the cool summer breeze tousling his shaggy brown hair. The bark of his dog, Sandy, drew his attention. She looked up at him, tongue lolling out of her mouth. He took her head in both his hands, scratching the sweet spot behind her ears and pulling her in and pressing his forehead to hers. Another loud bark echoed, and suddenly, Sandy’s entire weight was on him. She pinned him down, attacking him with enthusiastic licks.

Tim turned his head side to side, trying to escape the relentless assault. “Ok, Ok. I give!” He said, hands raised in surrender. The weight lifted from his chest, and he opened his eyes to see a giant green eye staring back at him. The single slit pupil removed any trace of his joy in an instant.

Shoving whatever wasn’t Sandy off of him. He looked down to find a round alligator head looking up at him with its tongue lolling out.

“The hell is this?” Tim muttered, his skin now matching the floating alligator’s head shade of green.

The alligator’s eyes crossed and its mouth opened wide releasing a familiar blaring alarm. Tim cringed as he laid his hand on the alligator head, feeling the shape of his phone beneath it. He pressed the button to silence the noise.

“Fuuuuck” Tim groaned as he tossed over on his side, clinging to his pillow. “Why must time pass so fast when I sleep?” He quietly asked his comfy bed.

Reluctantly pushing himself up he sat up taking in his sanctuary– bed shoved against the wall, a fan rattling from its perch on the dresser. His computer silently calling to him across from him, the empty soda cans and dinner plate scattered around it.

Reaching into the laundry basket that holds his unfolded laundry he paused briefly making sure his pale skin hadden stayed green from his dream before he slipped into his khakis, sighing as the waistline dug into his own. “The things I put up with for such a small paycheck.” he said then realizing he has to work with Tracie as the floor manager today, several excuses flooding his mind before sucking it up and putting on his polo shirt.

Tim made his way into the kitchen using the remote to the living room turning on the rock channel as he cracked open the fridge removing the regular eggs, bacon, and sausages. Spraying the pan before the sweet sizzling sound graced his ears, and the smell filled the air.

Hearing the heavy shuffle of his roommate's feet.

Tim turned setting two plates filled with the earlier mentioned food with toast on the table. “Morning Simon.” Tim said as he sat down.

Simon adjusted his glasses, before picking up his fork. “Morning.” he mumbled as he tried to wake up. His clothes are not any more flattering than Tim’s own.

“I didn’t get to ask what you and the others decide to do with the Volcanic sword?” Tim asked before scooping up some eggs.

“We sold it and added the gold to the guild bank.” Simon replied

“Max finally gave in?” Tim asked, surprised.

“Not about what Max wants. The sword is nice, but no one in our raid group needs it. Our gear is better, or the ones who could use it, it would just be a spare.” Simon said, his voice raising a bit. The joys of being the leader.

“Well every guild has at least one loot goblin or hoarder.” Tim started before putting on voice as an impression. “But what if we need it? something could come up and we will wish we had it.” he finished chuckling a bit.

“And those are the players that have to spend extra gold just to open up more slots in their personal banks cause they never use anything. It is a waist.” Simon said quickly composing himself. setting his fork down. “Doesn’t matter, it was voted we sell it. Tonight we can do the dungeon again and hopefully we will get the wind glaive for Adam, and we can start looking at who else needs gear.”

Tim turned back after putting his dishes in the dishwasher. “Yeah, four percent drop rate is a pain, but we are due for a win, RNG gods will need to smile on us eventually.” He said as Simon handed him his plate and fork.

“I'll finish getting ready and we can head out.” Simon said.

“I'll be outside.” Tim said after the dishwasher started.

Walking outside, the breeze carried the promise of a warm day ahead as the bright sun was rising over the trees to the east. The porch groaned beneath his feet, and in the distance, dogs barked. Dust swirled up from the dirt road as people began their day, heading to work. Roosters crowed from all directions, greeting the morning with their loud calls.

Tim had sat down on the bench they had, closing his eyes to the natural symphony around him. Tim liked the area–it was remote, with no rude neighbors nearby, or atleast, the ones there were far enough away not to bother him. The downside? No real work nearby.

The porch groaned again as Simon stepped out, shutting the door behind him. “Come on, you can sleep on the way.” Simon said as his heavy hand jarring Tim’s knee.

Tim slowly stood making his way toward the old buck century. He crawled into the passenger seat, and with a click, reclined the seat, Simon started fiddling with the radio, searching for something to listen to as they started their drive to work.

Tap, Tap, Tap. The pencil sounded as Tim’s college counselor filled out paperwork. Confusion visible on his face.

“It's been what? Four years?” Tim thought to himself as his gaze focused.

“Tim, this is your fifth time in my office. Why are you missing so many classes?” Mr. Brown asked, his voice calm but firm.

“I..I don’t know, no motivation I guess.” Tim mumbled, his voice meek, just as it had been all those years ago.

Mr. Brown shook his head. His mustache visibly twitched with the motion as he let out a long weary breath, his bowler hat covering his eyes. “Tim, if you want to stay here and get a good job you can’t just say. ‘I don’t have motivation.’ Your motivation is the end result. You do good in school, you get a good job, get married, have kids. There are people in this world that wish they had the opportunity you do here and now. Don’t waste it.”

Mr. Brown didn’t know that Tim's family made too much money to disqualify him from any real financial aid, but didn’t make enough to pay for his college without burdening themselves. The only help he could get were direct loans. At eighteen, he was already twenty thousand dollars in debt after just two semesters. And, just like a broken record, Mr. Brown repeated the same tired advice his parents had forced on him: Get a degree, Get a job, Get married, Have kids, follow the steps, check the boxes.

Tim’s voice cracked as he finally spoke up, unable to keep it inside any longer. “That’s just it, Mr. Brown. I don’t know what I want to do. I just know I didn’t want to come here. I’m eighteen—how am I supposed to know what I want to do with the rest of my life. For God’s sake, I’m already twenty thousand dollars in debt! FOR WHAT?! THE BASICS!? I HAD MATH! ENGLISH! SOCIAL STUDIES! HISTORY! I DID ALL THAT IN HIGHSCHOOL!”

TAP, TAP, TAP! The pencil clicked against the paper again, but Tim’s rant was cut off as the room began to shake. Suddenly, Simon’s voice echoed through Mr. Brown’s mouth.

“Wake up Tim, we are here.”

Tim's eyes snapped open. Simon was shaking him gently by the shoulder. “Come on, we’re here,” Simon repeated, his voice pulling Tim out of the dream of his past and back to now.

Tim stepped out of the car pausing remembering something from his dream. “Wait Mr. Brown never wore a bowler hat.”

“What?” Simon turned asking.

Tim shook his head, “Sorry, I was thinking out loud about my dreams. Just plain weird.” He said, now walking beside Simon.

“Not another goblin dream, I hope.” Simon said as the automatic doors slid open.

“No. Though my skin did change to a shade of green in one.” Tim replied with an awkward smile.

“I swear dude, you have way too much sympathy for the green skins.” Simon said a bit judgingly.

“What? They are outcasts, misunderstood, it's relatable to me.” Tim argued.

Simon laughed. “For good reason, in most fantasies they are known for rapping, pillaging, and taking what they want from weak villages.” Simon retorted.

“That is just some depictions. They don’t always have to be bad, it is just easy to write them as evil cannon fodder. If I ever run a game, I will show you how easy it would be to make them redeemable or at least a far bigger threat for you and a party.” Tim said confidently as they both checked the batteries for their walkie talkies before putting them on.

“Well, any race can be a threat if it somehow gets a class and levels. I am not doubting you, I just think somehow you twisted your own idea of goblins from monsters into misunderstood creatures.” He said as they walked into the break room.

The break room was clearly well-used, its worn tiles bearing the marks of countless past spills and mishaps. The leather couch, pushed against the far wall, was cracked and faded, its surface bearing the scars of time. The kitchen area had a few cabinets and a single sink with a dish rack on one side and a coffee maker on the other, the smell of freshly brewed hot coffee filled the air. In the center of the room is an old round table with cardboard under one of the legs, and four worn down plastic chairs circling it. Two of which were filled by two younger women.

“Maybe, I just like a good underdog story.” Tim replied as he started towards the coffee.

Two young women sat with math books open as one let out a growl of frustration. “Why can’t I get the answer? How am I supposed to make it in college if I can’t pass simple algebra II?” she asked the universe.

“It will be fine, look we can ask Simon he knows this stuff. Hey Simon, could you take a look?” She asked with puppy dog eyes. Without looking Tim just shook his head. Amy always tried to act sweet, but Tim knew better.

Simon walked over quietly, looked at the problem and instantly replied. “The answer is forty two.”

Debbie got even more frustrated. “How do you get this so easily? it is too hard.”

Simon chuckled. “I just had a bit more math classes when I was in college.”

“If you were in college, why are you working at this trash job?” Debbie asked.

Simon frowned a little bit. “Things just don’t always work out the way you want them too.”

Amy started to whisper. “Well at least you tried, unlike your lazy friend over there. He is always getting in trouble not doing all of his work and Tracie having to get on to him about doing a better job.”

Tim could not help but visibly tense at hearing it. ‘Again, it never fails, one person doesn’t like me and just because they are more sociable than me everyone thinks they know the entire picture.’ Tim thought to himself when images of similar past experiences had happened.

Simon caught the sight of Tim's shoulders tensing before looking back down at Amy. “You all just know what you hear from Tracie or the great vine. It’s all fun and games till you become the topic of those things, never good. take everything with a grain of salt and make your own decisions.” Simon said, trying to be polite to the younger coworkers.

The room went quiet, though Tim seemed to relax a little bit. With his coffee in hand he turned towards the table. “I am going to get out on the floor, see if Eric missed anything last night.” Tim said with a forced smile before walking out the door.

He took a drink from his coffee, the life warming liquid running down his throat, that small simple pleasure helping him relax just a bit more. Closing his eyes he just focused on that warmth as he drank some more, his eyes closed as he let out a long slow breath.

Standing there, his shoulders relaxing more and more, when a far too familiar annoying voice violated that peace and made him snap open his eyes and the tension he was just letting go violently returned.

“What do you think you are doing?” Standing a couple feet ahead of him stood a five foot nothing blond hair woman, her bright blue eye sending daggers at him. “You know you are not supposed to bring drinks out onto the floor.” She stated before Tim could respond.

‘Of course, I must have pissed off a witch in my past life or something.’ Tim thought to himself before saying. “I was just finishing it before heading to my area.”

“You should have finished it in the break room.” Tracie said not giving him an inch.

‘Honestly wish I would have. I thought I was leaving a bad situation, but all I did was jump from the frying pan into the fire. It will be ok Tim just stay calm and limit the interaction.’ He finished his pep talk to himself before a smile that could not reach his eyes came onto his face. “You are right. My apologies Tracie.” His tone said more than he wanted, that he is tired, tired of her shit, tired of rumors, tired of being targeted just because he doesn’t bend to the idea of human hierarchy.

Tracie narrowed her eyes. “If I am right, what are you going to do about that cup?” she asked.

Tim looked at her, then his cup, lifting the rim met his lips and he began to drink, his head tilting back as the hot liquid ran out of the cup. ‘This is stupid, your entire power trip is stupid, your mind set is stupid, this is not high school anymore, giving me a hard time for no other reason than because you can.’ every thought that ran through his head, he wanted to tell her to bring her back down to earth.

The last drop left the cup and Tim lowered his head. His not smile came back to his face as their eyes met his grip crushing the cup. He turned back and opened the door behind him just enough to slip his hand in and drop the cup into the small trash can, turning back to Tracie “problem solved.” he said and began to walk back to his department but she stepped right in front of him.

“You need to lose the attitude, be more friendly with customers, give an actual smile not whatever.” She gestured to his face, “That is.” Her eyes filled with disgust as she looked him up and down. Her hands went to her hips as she turned her head as if she couldn’t bare to look at him anymore. “I am getting way too many complaints from customers that you are not friendly to them as you help them.”

Tim continued to smile without it reaching his eyes. “I will do better to not cause you anymore trouble Tracie.”

She turned her head back to him. “You better I will be keeping my eyes on you, and if you don’t shape up you might as well start looking for a new job.” She said with a tone as if she has been wanting to say this for a very long time.

Tim’s eyes flashed its first emotion. Anger. Their radios buzzed to life. “Tracie I need you in my office please.” The store owner Mr. Moore called.

Quickly Tracie grabbed her radio with a perfect princess smile and customer service voice. “I’ll be right there.” She put the radio back on her hip and the smile left her face. “You are lucky Tim, I could tell you was about to do something stupid. But if you want, please go ahead.”

The smile that could not reach his eyes came back. “I don’t know what you mean Tracie, I will be doing my utmost to represent you and the job I am so lucky to have.” He said.

She narrowed her eyes again before looking him up and down again. her lip rising on one side before tsking, “straighten that uniform before you go to your floor.” she said before abruptly turning and leaving.

The anger reached Tim’s eyes again, his teeth and fists clenching. ‘All of this because of one stupid comment, because I was too relaxed and your little lackey ran and told you what I said, probably told you far worse than what I actually said.’ Tim’s thoughts were abruptly cut off as a wide hand landed on his right shoulder giving it a tight squeeze.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Time to breathe, and unclench, your anger is going to cause you to have an aneurysm, man.” Simon said, trying to ease the tension in the air with some humor.

“I don’t need you to always save me politically Simon.” Tim said not looking at him.

“Obviously you do, people suck we both know that, but you don’t hide your emotions very well. Everyone knows what you really want to say or do at all times.” Simon replied.

Tim did not say anything, he knew he was right. Tim just wasn’t good with people unless they had similar interests and/or mindsets.

“Come on let's get to our areas, once we get busy the day will go by faster.” Simon said, walking in front of Tim.

“Yeah, got to the bathroom first, splash some water on my face, and straighten up my uniform.” He said doing air quotes, before turning away and heading to the restroom without really looking at Simon.

Simon watched him go. ‘Damn brother, you can’t let these stupid people get to you like that. as long as you do you will always have someone under your skin.’ he thought to himself wanting to say it, but knowing Tim and his anger the words just would not reach him right now.

Tim made his way into the restroom, a decently sized and clean one for a retail electronic store. He stopped at the middle sink mumbling to himself. “I am so sick of this shit. Doesn’t matter what I do it is wrong and if it isn’t something I do it is simply the fact I am here.” He slammed his palm into the counter. his head dropping forward as he remembered the disgusted look she gave him.

‘I know I am not a ten, or even a six. but you don’t have to look at me as if I am that repulsive. I AM HUMAN!’ He thought to himself, moving his hand under the faucet to get the water running, cupping brought the water to his face, a shiver running down his spine, as he had to take a sharp breath. He repeated this two more times.

Reaching out with his left hand he grabbed paper towels to dry his face, straightening up, he got a good look at himself in the mirror for the first time since he arrived at work. his hair was more disheveled then he thought, his shirt untucked on the right side, and spreading to the left.

Getting more water he started fixing his hair the best he could, then straightened his shirt re-tucking it. ‘I don’t know why I bother, it is just going to pull itself out once I get down to the lower rows on the isles for anything.’ he thought to himself but he knew why, rather he wanted to admit it to himself, he wanted to be accepted. It’s why he tries so hard even though he knows it’s a losing battle.

Standing there feeling like he put himself back together a bit better, he headed out the door and onto the floor. Walking past the tech help area, he overheard two of the techs talking about one of their games. “Everyone died, it was me versus three others. I hid behind the box at C. when they showed themselves. BLAM Blam blam” Tim heard till he was out of ear shot.

Next, he approached the phone section, and a wave of dread washed over him as he passed. Three young women huddled at the counter, giggling. As he came into view, their laughter faltered, replaced by whispered conversations.

“I heard, he already got told off by Tracie before the store even opened.”

“Yeah, Amy and I heard it through the break room door. I think it’s only a matter of time before he’s fired.”

Tim kept going, now at the appliances, where Tony sat typing away at his computer, doing his morning price changes. Tony paused, gave a small wave, and returned to his task. No words, no judgment–just Tony, counting down the days until retirement, escaping to a beach somewhere.

Finally Tim made it to his area, it wasn’t paradise, but it was nice. Video games, controllers, consoles, pre–built gaming PCs—everything he loved and rarely grew tired of being around. Sure, it was work, but at least it was a job where he got to talk about the things that brought him joy.

The store doors opened, and customers trickled in. By ten, the building was bustling, radios crackling with questions about prices and stock. It wasn’t long before the inevitable “Karen” or “Richard” showed up, demanding attention. Time seemed to fly during those hours.

Around noon things start to slow down. Customers shifted their focus from electronics to food.

“Thank you for shopping with us, and have a great day ma’am” Tim said smiling to a mother and her child as she just bought a game he recommended. She smiled and they left.

Tim moved to the accessory section, which was a mess. He dropped to one knee, pulling out items that had been hidden in the back.

“Why are you over here? There are still customers in your department,” came Tracie's voice from behind him.

Tim jerked his head up, smacking it against the shelf above him. “Ouch! You need a frickin bell on you.” He mumbled, rubbing his head as he stood up and faced her.

“What did you just say?” Tracie’s tone was sharp.

Tim took a deep breath, keeping his composure. “Those customers have been here since we opened. They said they don’t need help, so I thought it'd be a good time to tidy up the area so things are easier to find.” He explained himself.

Tracie bent her knee, propped her right hand on her hip and quirked an eyebrow. Her favorite stance. “You typically don’t take initiative.” Her eyes moved as if scanning him before snapping back up to his face. “Empty your pockets.”

“What?” Tim asked, incredulous.

She stood straight. eyes narrowing. “I said, empty your pockets.”

Tim’s confusion turned to frustration. “Wh… why?” he stuttered.

“Stop stalling, I know you have been taking things.” She snapped, her voice dripping with accusation.

Tim’s temper flared. He wasn’t a thief–he never was. but the sting of her words lit a fire inside him. His eyes narrowed. “I am no thief.”

“Yes you are. Now show me what's in your pocket!” she demanded, moving toward him.

Without thinking, Tim slapped her hand away. “You will not touch me,” he yelled, his voice thick with anger. “And I’m sick of your hate, and abuse of power, just cause you don’t like me!”

“Tim, Tracie! To my office. Now!” The store owner’s voice boomed over the radio.

Tracie lowered her head, clutching her wrist where Tim had slapped her, a malicious smile tugging at her lips as she turned to leave for Mr. Moore’s office.

A heavy weight settled in Tim’s chest. His stomach sank like a rock, and the gravity in the air made his knees weak. The fear of what came next began to crawl under his skin. ‘Why did I do that? Am I going to lose my job?’

His mind raced as he walked to Mr. Moore’s office, sweat beginning to form on his brow. Each step felt like a countdown to some inevitable end.

As he passed the others, their gazes added to the crushing pressure. Tony frowned, looking away. The gossip corner, usually buzzing, fell silent. Two of the three girls smiled. Amy quickly muttered, “Finally. Maybe his replacement will be better,” her voice tinged with smug satisfaction. Tim barely heard it as he reached the door to Mr. Moore’s office.

Tim’s hand Trembled as he reached for the doorknob, feeling the cold metal beneath his fingers. His heart thundered in his chest. The silence around him seemed to echo the chaos inside. Amy’s words stung, but somehow, they felt like the truth.

He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and pushed the door open. Mr. Moore’s office was sterile, over-lit, and intimidating. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing him in. Mr. Moore sat behind his desk, looking far too composed for the chaos Tim felt inside. The desk was neat—too neat, papers perfectly stacked, pens arranged just so. It was like a museum of order in the middle of a storm, and Tim was the storm.

Mr. Moore’s ice-blue eyes met Tim’s, calm and steady, peering over the rims of his glasses. For a moment, Tim wondered if the man could actually see past his skin, straight into the mess of his mind. Tim wasn’t sure if he could even see straight right now. His hands felt like they belonged to someone else, his thoughts darting around in circles. The room was too quiet, too still. It pressed on him from all sides.

“Have a seat, Tim,” Mr. Moore’s voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, like it was carefully contained. The words felt heavy, loaded.

Tim hesitated. His legs felt like lead, but he forced himself forward, sitting down in the small chair in front of the desk. The wood groaned under his weight, a sound that seemed to amplify the tension in the room. ‘This is it. This is the moment. What am I doing here?’ His stomach churned. The weight of the room felt unbearable. ‘There is no way out of this.’

Off to the side of the desk, Tracie stood with her arms crossed, her mascara running down her face. She wasn’t even looking at him. She didn’t need to; her presence was enough. She had the look of someone who knew something was about to go down. Someone who knew she had already won.

Tim swallowed hard. His mouth was dry, his mind still a haze.

“You know why you are here.” Mr. Moore’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp and direct. Leaning forward slightly, his icy gaze never wavering. “Did you not think slapping a hand away, refusing to cooperate, would lead to consequences?”

‘Consequences?’ The word felt like a punch in the gut. “I didn’t steal anything,” Tim said quickly, the words coming out almost too fast, like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

Mr. Moore didn’t flinch. He sat back, his fingers steepled in front of him as if he were observing a bug under a microscope. “It’s not about whether you stole, Tim. It’s about your actions. You didn’t handle this situation the right way. You didn’t take responsibility.”

Tim's pulse quickened. ‘Take responsibility?’ He hadn’t done anything wrong! His mind raced, the frustration bubbling to the surface. ‘Why is he siding with her? ‘Why does it always feel like it’s my fault?’ But he couldn’t say any of it. Not yet. He had to keep it together. “Now we have to figure out what led you to doing something so rash as hitting a coworker.” Mr. Moore’s voice was sharp but not unkind.

Tim’s thoughts scattered. He wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth would not move, his thoughts racing through every time Tracie pressured him. He had come to work that morning with every intention of getting through the day. But now, it felt like everything had gone wrong from the moment he stepped foot into the break room.

“I thought I could fix it,” Tim said finally, though it didn’t sound like the truth, even to him. ‘Couldn’t fix it?’ It was more than that. He had never felt more trapped. Tracie was always looking for a reason to bring him down, always testing him, pushing him to the edge. And today, it broke him. He couldn’t pretend anymore.

Mr. Moore didn’t speak for a long moment, just sat there watching him, waiting for something more. Tim’s heart pounded louder in his ears. ‘Why am I even here?’ He wasn’t a thief, he was pushed and pushed till he couldn’t take it anymore. He was just tired—tired of the constant pressure, tired of being scrutinized for things that weren’t his fault.

“I’m under a lot of pressure,” Tim blurted out before he could stop himself. “Every day it’s something else. You don’t see it, Mr. Moore. You don’t see how she treats me, how she’s always breathing down my neck. It’s not fair.”

Mr. Moore’s expression didn’t change. “Fairness is subjective, Tim. It’s not about what’s fair. It’s about how you handle yourself, how you represent the company. You’re a reflection of this store, and right now, you’re not showing me the man I thought you were.”

‘The man I thought you were…’ The words stung. What did Mr. Moore even know about him? About how he felt every single day walking into this place, knowing that Tracie was just waiting for him to slip up, just waiting for a reason to tear him down? Tim had always been the one to carry the weight of all the bad things happening in the store.

Tim felt a surge of heat in his chest, and for a split second, the anger took over. ‘This isn’t me. I’m not a thief, I’m not lazy, and I’m damn sure not going to keep letting her control my life.’

“Do you understand, Tim?” Mr. Moore's voice broke through the haze.

Tim opened his mouth to respond, but the words never came. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

For a moment, it all clicked into place. The frustration, the constant stress, the way he felt like he was suffocating in this job. He could feel the truth creeping up on him, thick and undeniable. ‘I don’t belong here. I don’t need this anymore.’

Before Tim could second guess himself, the words tumbled out of his mouth, louder than he expected.

“I quit,” he said, his voice steady and firm despite the chaos inside. “I’m done. This… this isn’t for me.”

Mr. Moore’s eyes widened, just slightly, but Tim didn’t care. Tracie’s eyes shot up from where she had been staring at her shoes. There was a flicker of something in her gaze—surprise, disbelief, maybe even a touch of satisfaction.

You… what?” Mr. Moore’s voice was softer now, like he hadn’t expected this.

“I’m done,” Tim repeated, standing up, setting his radio on the desk, the words feeling right now, more right than anything he’d ever said. “I’m not going to stay here and let her abuse her power when you are not around.”

Tim turned toward the door, his legs almost trembling beneath him, but there was a strange strength in him now. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.

As he reached the door, he heard Mr. Moore spoke, but the words didn’t matter anymore.

“Good luck, Tim,” Mr. Moore said, his voice distant, almost resigned.

Tim stepped out onto the floor, his decision was still echoing in his mind, but this time, it felt right. There was no lingering doubt. He had made his choice, and it had been a long time coming. The weight on his shoulders was gone. For the first time in what felt like forever, he could breathe.

As he approached the front podium, Simon spotted him immediately. His brow furrowed with concern, but there was a flicker of curiosity too.

“You okay, Tim?” Simon asked, his voice soft, as if testing the waters.

Tim met Simon’s gaze without hesitation, his stance more solid than he’d felt in a long time. He smiled slightly.

“I’m okay,” Tim replied, his voice clear, steady. “I just quit.”

Simon blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Wait, what? You quit?”

Tim nodded, the finality of the words still feeling satisfying. “Yeah. I’m done.”

Simon paused, searching Tim’s face for any sign of uncertainty, but there was none. Tim wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t second-guessing himself. He had been pushed to his limit, and now he had taken control.

“Well, that’s... a big move.” Simon leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice, sensing there was more to the story. “What happened? Did something go down in there?”

Tim’s expression tightened, but not with fear—more like the resolve of someone who had made peace with their decision. “It’s been building up for a while, you know? Tracie’s been on my case for months. Always trying to find something wrong with what I do, just waiting for a reason to get me in trouble. Today... today was the last straw.” He shook his head, almost laughing at how ridiculous it all seemed now. “I got accused of stealing. And I couldn’t just sit there and take it anymore. Not after everything that’s happened.”

Simon looked at him, his brow furrowing, but his expression softened when he saw how calm Tim was. “Accused of stealing? I knew she was trying a lot but that was a sale. But, are you sure about this? You’re really done with it all?”

Tim squared his shoulders, the fire in his chest still burning but now focused, like a sharp edge. “Yeah. I’m done.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “I’m not gonna keep letting her—or anyone—walk all over me. I’ve been tiptoeing around here, trying to keep my head down, but no more. I’ve had enough of being treated like crap. This job doesn’t define me, and I’m not going to waste another minute in a place where I’m not respected.”

Simon opened his mouth, but the words seemed to catch, like he wasn’t sure what to say next. There was a long beat of silence between them.

Finally, Simon sighed, but it wasn’t a sigh of concern—more like a sigh of admiration. “Well, damn. I’ve never seen you so... sure about something.” He chuckled, a small, approving grin tugging at his lips. “I can’t say I blame you though. If anyone deserves a little peace of mind, it’s you.”

Tim met Simon’s eyes, his confidence unshaken. “I’m tired of pretending. This place wasn’t making me happy anymore, and I’m done trying to make it work. There are plenty of other jobs. I’m not gonna let this job keep me stuck.”

Simon nodded. “I get it. But... you know there’s a lot more to it than just walking out, right? What now? Rent, bills... you know the drill.”

Tim felt a calm wash over him. He hadn’t worked everything out yet, but he wasn’t worried. “Yeah. It’s not like everything’s gonna be perfect now, but I’ll figure it out. I’ve got some money saved up while I look, I know how to work hard. And I’m done being afraid of what comes next.” He paused for a second, giving Simon a steady look.

Simon seemed to take that in, eyes widening slightly as he absorbed Tim’s words. He gave Tim a nod of approval. “I’m proud of you, man. I really am.” His voice had softened, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it. “You’re not backing down. I like this version of you.”

Tim smiled, feeling the weight of his decision shift from a burden to a newfound strength. “Thanks, Simon. Honestly, it feels good. I’m not afraid of the next step anymore.”

Simon dug into his pocket and handed Tim the keys to the car. “There is a shirt in the trunk, change out of that, grab something to eat and come pick me up in four hours ok?” he said, gesturing to the work shirt.

Tim nodded gratefully and with his new freedom walked out the front doors.