Devon S Roberts
People talk to me. They talk, they talk at me. My voice is static. The buzz between radio stations. I listen. I nod. Contort my face into shapes of understanding. Joy. Empathy. Condolence. Shared emotions. I hear you; do you see me?
I work. My job is ear-to-ear charisma. “How may I help you?” “Can I help you
with anything?” “Do you need any help?”
Help. I’m so tired but I’m here. Back straight. Smiling. Happiness bought at $10 an hour. He flirts. Smiles. Laughs. Sighs. Looks down at me with star crossed eyes. I do what I can to not hold his hand. To keep his hands off of me. To get away. I’m shaking. “I’m fine.”