Grapefruit drop

She never meant to fall in love with Felix. It started with something as insignificant as a scent — a little mint, a trace of grapefruit lingering in the air of a busy bar. Then came his white shirts, his long black hair, tattooed hands, beautiful veins, quiet smiles, cigarettes during breaks, and the way he always seemed to appear exactly when she needed something to make her day feel lighter. At first, she only watched him. Then she began waiting for him. Waiting for his 5 PM shift. Waiting for their schedules to overlap. Waiting for a hello, a smile, a hug at the end of the night. She memorized the smallest things about him without meaning to: the way he writes with his left hand, the silver strands hidden in his hair, the two moles on his neck, his favorite beer, the single spoonful of sugar he puts in his tea. And slowly, Felix became more than a bartender she worked beside. He became the reason ordinary days felt alive. But love is complicated when it belongs to only one person. There were days when she wanted nothing more than to breathe the same air as him, to wear his apron, borrow his jacket, photograph him, protect him, and stay in his arms forever. And there were days when she wanted him to disappear completely so she could finally stop feeling. She couldn't tell whether she was falling in love with Felix — or with the version of him she had created in her own heart. Then she discovered the truth. And suddenly, all those little moments had to be placed back where they belonged. The hugs. The coffee. The cigarettes. The laughter. The jealousy. The waiting. The grapefruit and mint. And just as she was beginning to understand what she felt, she was transferred to another place. Their story never really began. There was no confession. No relationship. No first date. No ending dramatic enough to justify the ache it left behind. Just two people who happened to meet behind the same bar for a little while. And one girl who learned that sometimes the shortest stories can leave the longest memories. Because some loves don't end with goodbye. Some simply stop happening. And somewhere, long after the last shift, she may still catch the faintest scent of grapefruit and mint — and remember the boy she never got to call hers.