Its 12:38pm and I just hopped out of the shower my hair still brown from the wet look and dripping water. Some Chri$tian Gate$ song blasting from atop the washer, the room full to the bream with steam and smoke. I finish drying myself off take another rong bip and head toward the small padded cell i call a bedroom.

  “Hopefully its not too crazy today, I’m unsure if i can really handle another full house kind of night.”

  I know its Thursday and also the 3rd of the month, meaning social security and disability checks just hit. Along with another round of coupons arriving in the mailboxes of happy elderly and young couples alike.

  “It is true that I am gonna have—”

  I don’t even get the sentence out before something tiny and alive flicks onto my shoulder with the precision of a ninja and the enthusiasm of a caffeinated toddler.

  My finger monkey clamps onto me, little hands gripping my damp collarbone, tail wrapping across the back of my neck like it’s staking a claim.

  He doesn’t chirp.

  He doesn’t screech.

  Instead, he sends a pulse — a warm brush against my thoughts, like someone whispering just behind the edge of consciousness.

  You’re running late, the feeling says.

  Not words. Not exactly. More like intention folded into my brain like origami.

  “Okay, first of all,” I tell him, “you don’t get to judge me for running late when you’re the reason I almost slipped and died.”

  He tilts his head, big dark eyes widening with exaggerated innocence.

  I feel a faint tickle of pressure behind my eyes, the kind he uses when he’s trying to nudge my senses — a gentle push that makes the room seem slightly brighter, slightly warmer, like he’s trying to soothe me into cooperating.

  “Don’t even start,” I warn, flicking a droplet of water at him.

  He dodges effortlessly, then jumps from my shoulder to my wrist, little fingers curling around me like ivy. Another mental brush follows, lighter this time — curious, impatient, a little hungry.

  “Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll feed you again before we leave. Stop messing with my vision or I’m putting you in the hoodie pocket like a child.”

  He radiates smugness directly into my skull.

  I swear he enjoys this too much.

  I set him on the bed, and he starts hopping in tiny, hyperactive circles. Most people just see a cute, weirdly intelligent little primate. That’s because he lets them. He keeps the real abilities tucked away, quiet, like a secret only meant for the two of us. We have used his ability so that he can rest on my shoulders or hang out while I’m working.

  The telepathy.

  The language comprehension.

  The way he can tweak someone’s senses just enough to distract, calm, confuse, or control.

  Yeah.

  He’s small, but he’s dangerous in all the ways a creature his size shouldn’t be.

  And right now he’s bouncing like a possessed gummy bear.

  “This day’s gonna be hell,” I mutter.

  He looks at me, eyes gleaming, and this time the feeling he sends is unmistakable.

  Oh, you have no idea.

  Its 12:56 now my eyes are bloodshot with exhaustion and we are walking out the door, me in the same red dress uniform with black pants i had worn every day for the past week. due to the benders and hectic work schedule sleep has become a thing of the past i mostly just kick it with Jax and smoke it out til the sun comes up.

  ~

  On the way to the Sunny Setup i make the same stop I’ve made almost every day for the last 4 years of my life a little hole in the wall gas station about 10 minutes from town, never busy and always has my favorite energy drinks in stock. Today i pick the Huddle Hell spiked coffee to chill the mood and get a boost for the day ahead. I know i shouldn’t be drinking on the job and Jax gets on me constantly about it. You’d think with his ability to understand and control our senses and to read our minds he would get it, but he doesn’t. Yet i trust him with my life.

  The bell above the gas station door gives its usual pathetic tink, like even it’s too tired to fully commit. The place smells like old mop water and incense someone lit three days ago and forgot about. Comforting, in a weird “my life is a sitcom but the laugh track is broken” kind of way.

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  Jax clings to my shoulder, perched like a judgmental parrot, his fur still slightly puffed from the chill outside. The florescent lights hum overhead, and he sends a little wave of pressure into my skull — the telepathic version of a raised eyebrow.

  Really?

  The intention is dry. Disappointed. A little parental, which is insane coming from a creature the size of a baked potato.

  “Don’t start,” I mumble. “I need this.”

  He flicks my earlobe with his mind. Not painfully — just enough to say stop being reckless in his own smug little way.

  I flip him off with the hand not grabbing the drink. He chirps once, an actual sound this time, which is monkey-for “dramatic sigh.”

  The Huddle Hell can is cold in my palm, condensation sliding down like sweat on a runner’s back. The label promises a “balanced blend of caffeine, liquor, and questionable life choices.” Perfect.

  I crack it open before I’ve even reached the counter.

  Jax lets out a little mental gasp that feels like someone snapping a rubber band behind my eyes.

  “You’re being dramatic,” I tell him. “It’s one drink.”

  He answers with a sensation like squinting at bright light — his telepathic ‘glare.’

  If he were human he’d have his arms crossed, tapping his foot, saying something passive-aggressive like well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  But instead, he just burrows closer to my neck, tail curling into the collar of my uniform. It’s protective, even if his attitude is pure sass.

  I pay. The cashier barely looks up — four years of routine has made me invisible to him. Truly, some days i believe he would allow me to just grab a few cans and pay him later, but that’s fine. Some days I don’t want to be seen.

  Outside, the air hits me cold, slicing through the lingering humidity from my rushed shower. My eyes sting — bloodshot red, like I just got in a fight with insomnia and came in second place.

  Jax settles more securely on my shoulders as we head toward the Sunny Setup, his presence like a heater pressed against the back of my mind. Even in silence, he’s there. Even in exhaustion, I’m not alone.

  Town is just lively and bustling, someone’s crappy pickup truck coughing to life, the distant bark of a dog that’s too alert for his own good.

  My boots crunch on gravel. The drink warms my chest. Jax’s mind hums against mine — soft, steady, faintly amused.

  You’re killing yourself, his intention murmurs, not angry now, just worried.

  “I know,” I whisper. “But I still gotta go to work.”

  He curls tighter, like he’s shielding me from the morning itself.

  And I let him, because if anyone understands how thin I’m stretched — it’s the tiny telepathic gremlin with a death grip on my sanity.

  The Sunny Setup sign comes into view, glowing a tired yellow through the fog.

  “Another day,” I say.

  Jax’s pulse of feeling answers:

  Another disaster.

  And honestly? He’s probably right.

  ~

  You see a glowing line flowing and distorting its way down my body as the bell rings and I enter the building, 1:45 i clock in at 2 and things seem to be moving unusually slow today. There is a 3 top sitting at table 12 an elderly gentleman treating his daughter and her elementary aged child to a nice lunch, and a young couple sitting at the bar. I approach the register, Jax sending out a pulse of calm and a twinge of fear almost as if to say “whats going on wheres the mid shift change rush?”

  “Ill take a water in a large to go cup with extra ice please, and a small cup of water for the monkey as well!” I smiled at Alena as she cheerfully greets us. Jax feeling playful sends a feeling of warmth and joy through Alena almost as thanks!

  “Oh hey Cyril! I didn’t notice you pull in welcome to the Sunny Setup!” As she turns to grab for a cup out of one of the sleek steel cylindrical cup dispensers and loads it with ice and then water, finally to grab a lid and straw passing them to me.

  I take my drink and make my way toward the back making small talk and banter with beau and Raleigh. “Every days a jet2holiday when you live eat and breathe the Sunny Setup” i laughingly spew to Raleigh who just confusedly laughs going along like she got the joke, which i did appreciate.

  I open the swinging door to the back to go check on the dishes and prep situation for the night. You can tell its been slow because Beau made Autumn and Alena deep clean the metal of the dishwasher and even deckbrush the wall behind the sinks and wash stations. Im dodging random trash and empty produce boxes like Im Randy Cunningham in 9th grade, finally i make it to the big cooler off in the back corner along with dry storage. I ask Jax to provide warmth to me before entering the freezer and he almost like a switch turns off my ability to feel temperature while im in there.

  we enter the cooler to check stock on what we already have pulled vs what needs to be pulled, luckily strawberries and whip were the only 2 things we were running low on. I walk through eying the shelves and labels making sure everything else is as it should be before walking over to the freezer to grab a container of strawberries and 2 bags of whip and toss it into the cooler to thaw.

  Walking back out the swinging door i notice a young couple picking their table. A pretty young blonde girl on what is presumably their first date. I grab the setup and dance my way through the chaos toward table 23 to greet them.

  “Hey there welcome to the sunny setup! Do we know what we’d like to drink today?” Smiling charmingly at the girl shifting my gaze between the two.

  “Ill have an Arnold palmer please!” The girl delightedly nodding.

  “Give me a double shot of jack and a spritz of coke.” As he laughs knowing we dont serve alcohol here. “But on a real note ill take a sweet tea!”

  Table 23 is directly across from the drink station so you can still hear their conversation while you’re making drinks but I’m not paying attention. I have a cute little green eyed cash generator perched on my shoulder like a sleeping sock puppet.

  Jax listens though, this is his stomping ground and the more his brother makes the better his life will be. A serving job with his ability to help is just the best option to remain low and still make a crazy amount of money under the table.

  The couple seems to have known eachother for a while before this, they are getting on well shes going on about the new êlen perfume she just ordered and he is talking about his work on road paving crew. For a second i feel a slight buzzing in my throat almost as if jax is laughing for me. He figured out their names for me, Carlie and Joel the names sticking out like sore thumbs in my head.

  I feel a warmth towards the guy when dropping off the drinks and jax flicks my ear softly with his tail still chuckling to himself a little. This is my sign that he has some level of control and im about to get a good tip!

  “Alrighty guys now that we have our drinks would we like to put in an appetizer?” I ask grinning with the face of a victor.

  “Sure we will have a 12 piece mozzarella stick!”

  “Alrighty ill get that for you and be right back to you guys in just a few to get your orders.”

  Everything goes ends up going well with that table and thanks to my little mental gremlin i snagged a 50 dollar tip out of this guy! It ends up being a pretty profitable night but it was slow so i offered to leave early for the other servers to get a chance to make money. 250 bucks richer,Jax and I walk across the gravel back to my beat up Chevy Nova, one day I’ll rebuild this thing to a perfection beyond what it ever was. This vehicle is my prized possession—the only love that’s ever really stuck around. Even Jax seems obsessed, sending it little glows for anyone who might notice. But for now? Quittin’ time.