As Cora headed out to the crowded seating area, cold lunch in hand, she contemplated sitting outside and simply waiting until her thirty minutes were over. Even though more than half the tables inside were empty, Cora didn't want to be surrounded by anyone who may have witnessed the debacle an hour ago. Besides, she wasn't hungry, and the flies outside would have no reason to bother her if she didn't eat anything.

At the same time, she was too exhausted to travel far, so she dragged herself to the closest empty table and sat with her back to the majority of the crowd. If anyone ended up recognizing her, at least she could live in ignorance.

She scooped out some of her cold rice porridge and stared at it. The soy sauce made it the color of a latte. The lumpy grains had the texture of blended ice. It was like the drink Sheila threw on the ground as her parting gift, concluding the latest of Cora's shortcomings.

Cora had been useless. How could she have let the situation escalate that far, that fast? How could she deserve a promotion if she couldn't handle a single unruly customer? How could she have frozen up, forcing an employee of the competitor to step in on her behalf?

She took a bite of her porridge, more out of habit than hunger. After years of cooking the dish, she still hadn't succeeded in making it taste like she remembered. But maybe there was a reason for that. She had lost the honor to have the real thing when she first failed, and she had yet to earn it back. If anything, she was further than she ever was before.

The dishes before her began to blur, and Cora blinked the tears away from her burning eyes. As much as she wanted to duck down to hide her face, the sight of her pathetic meal was doing more harm than good, and she quickly lifted her gaze towards the food court clock.

Instead, she saw Farron standing a few yards away. The woman was watching her with a solemn expression, and a beat after Cora met her eyes, Farron's brows pinched. While Cora wasn't surprised, she didn't want Farron to worry either. It took a bit of effort, but eventually, Cora managed a small smile.

Unfortunately, that only made Farron frown even more.

Seconds later, Farron was at her table, but she didn't immediately sit down like Cora thought she would.

"Can I join you?" Farron's soft voice still managed to be audible over the chatter in the food court.

Cora nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As much as she didn't want to lose her composure in front of Farron, at least having the woman in front of her helped hide Cora's face from everyone else.

After taking a seat, Farron remained silent for a couple minutes, much to Cora's appreciation. She wasn't sure what she would say, if she could say anything at all, and she was too tired to pretend to enjoy small talk. Instead, she was content with watching Farron prep her lunch of her typical instant noodles.

Cora hadn't noticed before, but Farron had been right when she said she knew how to elevate her ramen. As soon as Farron lifted the paper lid, Cora realized the aroma of garlic and green onions that she always smelled during their meals was from the small foam cup, wafting out with a cloud of steam. It had a hint of spice to it too, one that probably didn't come with the plain chicken flavor that the cup's label claimed to be. For all Cora knew, Farron didn't even use the powder packet that came with it.

As Farron carefully mixed the noodles with her chopsticks, Cora spied some ingredients bobbing up and down within the cup. The golden yolks of the soft-boiled egg popped up first, along with the sesame seeds stuck to it. They were followed by spinach and bamboo shoots clinging to the noodles she scooped up, and bean sprouts sprouted up as the noodles dove back in. The next time her chopsticks emerged, they carried a sheet of previously dried seaweed, now soaked with broth.

Cora hadn't realized she had been staring until the chopsticks neared Farron's mouth, taking Cora's gaze with them. She quickly looked down at her own lunch just in time, and thankfully, the tear-inducing sight of her lumpy porridge was overpowered by the smells of Farron's food.

"So...your name really is Cora?" Farron asked.

Cora looked up at her, confused, before she could stop herself. Luckily, the seaweed had already disappeared, and Cora wouldn't have a reason to be fixated on the woman's mouth.

"That's what that other guy—Kevin?—called you," Farron continued, then shrugged. "I figured you had been lying when you said that was your name—back in the grocery store the other week, I mean. I always thought your name was Cordelia, like your name tag."

"Oh. Yeah." Cora's eyes drifted downwards, getting caught for a moment too long on the familiar dragon on Farron's arm before continuing to the noodle cup. She could've joked about Farron always calling her "coffee cake," but that would probably prompt further conversation, and Cora didn't have the energy to get involved in such a commitment.

"You don't have to say anything," Farron said, her voice soft again, as if her words would only stay between them. "But what happened wasn't your fault."

Cora hadn't intended to take Farron's first words to heart, but with her second statement, Cora couldn't think of a response. Denying it would incite follow-up questions; agreeing would be a lie.

"I'm serious," Farron said. "It wasn't your fault. You did everything you could."

"You don't know that," Cora whispered before she could stop herself. As soon as the words left her mouth, the weight in her chest seemed to grow, and her eyes began to burn with her tears that were desperate for freedom.

She lowered her head as far as she could, hoping Farron wouldn't be able to tell she was on the verge of crying, as she stirred her spoon through her porridge.

"I do, actually," Farron whispered, her words slower than before, as if she would chase Cora away if she spoke too intensely. "That's not the first time those two have tried that. They've hit about seven Fruitastics with the same routine. There's even an APB out on them for all the stores in the state. That's the only reason I knew to keep an eye on them in the parking lot. I recognized them and figured they were about to try something."

Cora scoffed—or tried to, but her breath was partially caught in her tight chest. "An APB? What are you, the smoothie police?"

"It stands for 'Activate Plan Banana,' but don't change the subject. My point is that it wasn't your fault. Some Cool Bean was bound to be caught up in that, and it just so happened to be you."

Meaning that anyone could have had the opportunity to prove their worth, but it was handed to Cora on a golden platter, and she ruined it.

"I should've been able to respond better," Cora said, forcing the words through her constricted throat. "I should've... I don't know, maybe just open my till and give her the money she wanted, like...like a robbery or something. I could've just asked Dar—my manager to approve the return later. Or I could've just taken the money from my own wallet. But you saw me back there. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't handle the situation like Darlene could've."

"You mean that bitter bean or whatever?" Farron clicked her tongue. "With her attitude, she would've started an all-out fight with the lady, and probably would've made the news. Cool Beans was lucky you were there instead of her. At least you would never give the company a bad name."

Cora nodded, but she didn't speak, not when she didn't trust her voice to remain steady. If Farron seemed to notice Cora was on the cusp of crying, she thankfully didn't say anything. Instead, she continued to eat without a word, and Cora was content with stirring her pitiful porridge.

Perhaps "content" was an optimistic way of phrasing it, and as much as Cora tried to keep up a sunny personality, at that moment, she was over it. She was done exuding a bouncy energy when she was running on fumes. She was done smiling at customers and acting happy to be at Darlene's beck and call. All Cora wanted to do was bury her head in her arms and cry herself to sleep.

Maybe she should. What was stopping her? It's not like she could get fired for crying—probably. Her reputation was already at an all-time low, and she had been throwing away her pride since she was first hired. The only thing she had left was her life, and what was the value of that, really?

"Cora," Farron whispered, the name sounding almost pleasant in her voice—but that wasn't possible. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

At the suggestion, Cora tried to sigh, but what escaped her was more akin to a slight sob. With that sound, Cora's lips began to tremble and her eyes welled up even more.

"I can't leave," Cora mumbled towards the table before sniffing. "I haven't missed a day of work in...since I started. I'm not tapping out over one little thing like that."

Farron sighed. "You can't keep working like this. What if you get hurt?"

Cora tried to laugh, but her chuckles sounded more hysterical than humorous. "By making coffee? What, do you think I'm going to accidentally spray myself with hot water?"

"I don't know, are you? Because that seems very likely right now, no offense."

A part of Cora wanted to take offense just because Farron said that. Another part couldn't deny that Farron was right, that Cora was bad enough at her job for careless accidents to be very plausible.

"I'll be fine," Cora said after too long of a pause. "It's just... It's just a few more hours. It's the least I can do."

It was the least she could do after failing to do her job when it mattered.

It seemed like ages before Farron responded, and it was almost long enough for Cora to raise her gaze out of a mixture of curiosity and concern. She wasn't sure what expression she expected Farron to be wearing, but if she had to guess, it would be along the lines of annoyance or disdain or—

"Just...don't push yourself too hard, okay?"

The softness of Farron's voice caught Cora so off guard that she couldn't stop herself from looking up. Across the table, Farron watched her with eyes as gentle as her words. While her brows were slightly pinched, it seemed to be out of concern, and not the disgust Cora anticipated.

Cora hadn't realized her lips had parted at the sight, not until she gulped to relieve her dried throat. "Okay."

With that one word, Farron's eyes widened, and Cora worried if she had said something wrong—again.

"And..." When Farron hesitated, her gaze drifted to the side before returning to Cora. "I can wait with you. After work, I mean. At the bus stop. If you want."

For a moment, Cora couldn't answer. If she really had said something wrong, Farron wouldn't have made such an offer, right? Regardless, Cora had already troubled Farron enough for one day, and she hadn't done anything worthy of making Farron stay so far past the end of her shift.

At the same time, Cora imagined sitting at the dark bus stop, alone, with nothing but her thoughts.

"Okay," Cora blurted out, then cleared her throat when she heard her own hoarse voice. "I mean...if it's not too much trouble."

With that, Farron gave her a soft smile, one that Cora hoped was genuine. "It's no trouble at all."

"I just don't think I can deal with any creeps tonight," Cora continued. "Not like I'd want you to deal with them either. Actually, it's fine, you don't have to—"

"Cora," Farron said.

At the sound her name, Cora froze, first at how the syllables seemed to float in Farron's voice, then at the sight of Farron's hand reaching across the table. The woman's fingers were still a foot away from Cora's own, but for a brief second, Cora imagined how it would have felt if the distance was closed.

"I'm waiting with you, okay?" Farron whispered in her gentle tenor. "It's no trouble at all. You're not troubling me at all."

Cora hadn't realized she needed to hear Farron's last few words until they were already spoken, and in her shock, she felt her eyes begin to burn once more. When she nodded, not trusting her voice to reply, Farron's widening smile assured Cora that the woman meant every word.