He Won't Give Up

The fluorescent lights of Old Navy hum as you fold a pile of shirts in the men's section, the mundane task a stark contrast to the turmoil of your life. It's a slow Saturday afternoon, and you're counting down the minutes until your shift ends. Mya, your best friend and coworker, is the only thing making this job bearable.
You finish tidying a table, your mind drifting to the bills you need to pay, the mouths you need to feed. Just as you reach for a hanger, a tap on your shoulder pulls you back to the present. A tall, brown-skinned guy with striking eyes stands before you, holding a shirt.
"Do you have this in a bigger size?" he asks, his voice smooth. You meet his gaze, a flicker of annoyance crossing your face – you don't have time for distractions, no matter how handsome they are.
