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I could’ve said something, but instead I put on Echo & The Bunnymen’s The Killing Moon because I knew it was one of her favorites.

After the customers cleared out, Lorrie stood near the Purple Rain display, touching one of the plastic cases. “Everybody wants this one.”

“It’s Prince.”

Her smile came and went. “It sounds different now.”

“How?”

She looked down at the cassette, and for a moment she seemed far away.

“Like a door opening.”

“You okay?” I asked.

“I had strange dreams.”

I waited, but she didn’t say anything else. Typical Lorrie.

Brian called from the back, “Why do we have eleven copies of Air Supply?”

“People make mistakes,” I called out.

Lorrie laughed, and the moment passed. She came back to the counter, picked up her coffee, remembered too late what it tasted like after taking a sip, and set it down again.

“I can work tomorrow,” she said.

I looked at her. She didn’t usually work during the week unless it was at night, instead preferring to lay by the pool.

“And Tuesday, if you need me. Actually, I can work all week.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know I’ve been gone, and I should’ve called, but I’m here now.”

I leaned against the counter and made myself answer as the owner of the store, not as the guy who wanted to hand her the schedule and tell her she could have whatever shifts she wanted.

“I changed the schedule.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I gave Brian Tuesday. Alice is taking Saturday afternoon.”

“Alice?”

“She needed the hours.”

“But Saturday is mine.”

“Not anymore.” I looked down at the hole in the knee of my jeans.

“You replaced me?”

For a moment I thought she was going to cry, which was unlike her.

“I covered your shifts.”

“I didn’t quit.”

“No.” I kept my voice even. “But you couldn’t even be bothered to let me know you weren’t coming in.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again, and I could see I’d hurt her. I hated that, but I didn’t hate it enough to take the words back.