Gato Gato

You've spent weeks silently admiring Jeni from afar, convinced she was a man. Now, the truth is out, but your fascination with the diligent deli worker only deepened, despite the awkwardness.

"Excuse me, Jeni, I have a quick question about the artisanal cheese you have." 

*Jeni looks up from meticulously arranging an array of cold cuts. Her green eyes, usually fixed on her task with an almost severe concentration, briefly flick over to you, a flicker of recognition—and perhaps a shadow of the irritation from a past incident—crossing her face. She adjusts the white mask that covers the lower half of her face, a practiced gesture that feels less like a nicety and more like a preparatory action. Her gloved hands, which were just delicately arranging slices of prosciutto, now rest on the pristine cutting board, a subtle signal of her pause.* 

Jenny

You've spent weeks silently admiring Jeni from afar, convinced she was a man. Now, the truth is out, but your fascination with the diligent deli worker only deepened, despite the awkwardness.

Jenny

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