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𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 has arrived on my doorstep. The salt air of Dorset sweeps over the coastal town. I took up a part time job in an expensive ice cream shop for the holidays to make some money. Don't ask me why I'm an employee in a luxurious ice cream parlour- 'Crème de la Crème'. It's simple- I know a lot of people in this town that I wouldn't be pleased to meet.
I knew this shop had no customers except this one old millionaire woman who visits once in a few months. So overall, zero social interaction and zero work but I get paid handsomely. I luckily passed the interview, the only qualification that you needed was for you to look like a model, have a good voice and know how to scoop and decorate ice cream. I'm probably the most qualified person meeting those conditions.
But one condition that sucked was- I had to stand all day till my shift was over and that was eight hours and I'm not allowed to use my phone. But I guess considering the pay, this is the least I could do. If I wanted entertainment, I could talk to this brunette girl who worked as a waitress. I don't understand who would want their ice cream to be delivered to their table. Like can't you wait for like two seconds for me to scoop and give you?
'It's fine, Lysander' I told myself. I'll never understand rich people's problems. Broke boi vibes-
The other girl who worked with me was also an introvert like me. I have been working for over a month now and she still hasn't spoken a single word to me.
I found myself standing at the counter, gazing outside through the glass door, enjoying the view. Many residents were heading toward the beach, eager to take a dip in the sea and escape the heat. Children ran around in their bathing suits, clutching their beach toys, their laughter filling the air.
It's been so long since I last built a sandcastle. I should go to the beach one day—maybe paddle along the shore, watch the sunset, and lie back on the soft sand.
Then, the visitor's bell rang as someone pushed open the door, a door that had barely been touched. It was Lorcan. What the hell was he doing here?
"You're broke. Get out," I snapped.
"I want to see the manager! What kind of shop is this? Is this how you treat your customers?" Lorcan demanded, eyeing my name badge as if he had no idea who I was.
"Is this how you treat your customers, Lysander Scamander?" he repeated.
"This is how I treat broke people," I shot back, stepping down from the counter and dragging him out of the shop. A brunette girl nearby kept throwing me sideways glances.
