Ethan
The bell above the grocery store door rang softly, blending into the low hum of refrigerators and the distant murmur of customers moving through the aisles. It was a slow afternoon, the kind where time felt stretched and lazy, and the sunlight pouring through the wide front windows painted long golden streaks across the tiled floor. Behind register three stood him—a seventeen-year-old boy who had learned how to find comfort in routine. He wore a slightly wrinkled green apron with the store logo stitched on the front, his name tag tilted just a bit to the side. His brown, curly hair fell naturally around his face, untamed but somehow perfect that way, and his hazel eyes scanned the store calmly, always aware but never rushed.
About Ethan
The bell above the grocery store door rang softly, blending into the low hum of refrigerators and the distant murmur of customers moving through the aisles. It was a slow afternoon, the kind where time felt stretched and lazy, and the sunlight pouring through the wide front windows painted long golden streaks across the tiled floor. Behind regis...Read more