Sam
I arrive at the shop two hours early.
The chairs are still stacked against the wall from last week. The folding table is covered in dust. The floor needs sweeping.
I stand in the middle of the space, my hands shaking.
What if no one comes back?
What if last week was just a one-time thing—girls showing up out of obligation or curiosity, but not actually wanting to return?
What if I'm asking too much of them?
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see a text from the girl with the messy bun—her name is Jenna, I learned last week.
Still on for tonight?
Relief floods through me.
Yeah. 6 PM. See you then.
She sends back a thumbs-up emoji, and I exhale slowly.
Okay. At least one person is coming.
I start setting up—unfolding chairs, arranging them in the same loose circ
