It was a Monday when the new guy arrived.
Mondays were always heavy at the post office. Stacks of unsorted mail taller than the carts meant to carry them, customers with weekend grievances bottled up and ready to spill, and a staff that hadn't yet remembered how to feign cheerfulness. Leo had trudged in with his usual sense of resigned routine, ready for the hum of the fluorescent lights and the endless rhythm of stamps, parcels, and signatures.
"Morning, everyone," the manager said, standing in the cramped staffroom with a stranger beside him. "This is Jack. He's joining us full-time."
Jack was tall, broad-shouldered, with a smile that seemed to arrive before he spoke. His hair was a shade lighter than blond, sun-bleached at the tips, and he wore the stiff blue uniform shirt as though it had been tailored for him. He nodded with casual confidence, his eyes sweeping the room and settling, briefly, on Amy.
Leo saw it immediately—the spark. Amy's posture shifted, her lips curved into a wider smile than usual.
"Hi, Jack," she said brightly, her voice warmer than Leo had ever heard it at eight-thirty in the morning. "Welcome to the madhouse."
Jack grinned. "Looking forward to it."
Greg slapped him on the back. "Finally, another guy with shoulders. Maybe people will stop thinking I'm the heavy lifter around here."
Raj laughed, his booming voice filling the room. "Careful, Greg, you'll strain yourself just comparing."
Mrs. Denton muttered something about "more mouths to feed" and returned to her crossword.
Leo stood in the corner, sandwich bag in hand, invisible. He nodded stiffly when Jack glanced at him, but the introduction had already moved on.
The day began with parcel sorting. Leo and Amy worked side by side at the long table, scanning barcodes and dropping packages into bins labeled by zip code. Normally, this was Leo's favorite part of the morning—the quiet hum of the scanner, Amy's occasional comment about a strange address or unusually heavy box. Today, however, Jack was stationed across from them, and Amy's attention had migrated entirely.
"Careful with that one," Jack said, lifting a box marked Fragile. "Feels like someone shipped a chandelier."
Amy laughed. "Or maybe just a bag of rocks. You'd be surprised."
"Rocks?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "People mail rocks?"
"Oh, you have no idea," Amy said, grinning. "Last year, someone sent a brick. Just… one brick."
They both laughed, their voices mingling easily, like two people who had known each other longer than five minutes. Leo forced a smile he didn't feel and scanned another box. The scanner beeped harshly, as though mocking him.
By midmorning, the lobby doors were open and customers began to shuffle in. Leo took his place at the counter, sliding behind the register. Amy's station was beside his, as always, but today Jack had been positioned on her other side.
The line moved steadily: bill payments, overseas parcels, an elderly man demanding exact change for a pension check. Leo dealt with them quietly, efficiently, his voice barely rising above the hum of the lights.
Beside him, Amy leaned toward Jack, their voices carrying easily over the counter.
"So, what did you do before this?" she asked as she stamped a passport application.
Jack slid a package across the scale. "Worked at a shipping warehouse. Boring stuff. This seems… livelier."
"Livelier?" Amy teased. "Clearly you haven't survived Christmas here yet."
"Oh, I'm ready for it," Jack said. His grin was unshakable.
Leo listened, each word like a pinprick. Amy rarely asked him about his past. When she did, her tone was polite, not animated. She laughed at his jokes, but not like this, not the kind of laugh that made her eyes linger afterward, as though savoring it.
The customers came and went. One man insisted Leo had shorted him two dollars in change, though the register was precise. Leo quietly returned the coins, enduring the suspicious glare. From the corner of his eye, he saw Amy lean toward Jack again, whispering some comment about the man's mismatched socks, and they both stifled laughter. Leo stared down at his hands, his fingers pale against the register keys.
At break time, the staff retreated once more to the cramped room. Greg immediately claimed the good chair and launched into a rant about the vending machine stealing his dollar. Raj heated a container of curry that filled the room with spices so rich Leo's eyes watered. Mrs. Denton slurped instant soup with pointed indifference.
Amy sat across from Jack, balancing her Tupperware of salad on her lap. "So, do you live nearby?" she asked.
"Couple streets over," Jack said. "Place with a balcony. I get the sunset every night."
"That sounds amazing," Amy said, her face lighting up.
Leo unwrapped his sandwich slowly. No one had ever asked him where he lived. He imagined saying, Basement apartment, no balcony, view of a dumpster, and almost laughed. But it wasn't funny.
Greg nudged Raj. "Hey, bet Jack doesn't know about Mrs. Denton's secret life."
Raj grinned. "Oh, you mean how she's actually a retired spy?"
Mrs. Denton glared at them both. "Keep it up, boys, and I'll retire you."
The room chuckled. Even Amy laughed, though Leo noticed she didn't laugh as warmly at Greg or Raj as she did at Jack.
When break ended, Leo walked back to the lobby with a heaviness in his chest. Jack lingered close to Amy, carrying her half-empty water bottle as though it were natural. Leo shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing himself invisible.
The afternoon routine changed. Leo was assigned to the back, sorting incoming mail for the carriers. Normally he liked the quiet reprieve—just him, the bins, and the rhythmic sound of envelopes sliding into place. But today, every laugh drifting from the front counter was a reminder of what he was missing.
He worked mechanically, hands moving without thought. He sorted by zip code, then by delivery route. He tied bundles with string, stacked packages on carts. Each label blurred before his eyes, replaced by the image of Amy leaning closer to Jack, smiling that smile Leo had always treasured.
Raj appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. "Hey, buddy, you alive back here?"
"Yeah," Leo said. His voice sounded hollow.
Raj frowned. "Don't let the Monday blues get you. Weekend's only five days away." He laughed and wheeled his cart out.
Leo forced himself to keep working.
By late afternoon, he was back at the counter. A woman with a stack of catalog returns argued about which forms she needed. Greg muttered jokes under his breath, too quiet for the customers but loud enough for Amy to roll her eyes. Jack managed to charm a teenager into smiling while filling out a customs slip.
Leo kept his head down, completing transaction after transaction. But he couldn't help overhearing Amy and Jack.
"So you play guitar?" she asked, her eyes bright.
"Yeah," Jack said, shrugging modestly. "Mostly for fun. A couple of friends and I jam on weekends."
"That's so cool," Amy said. "I've always wanted to learn."
Leo's hands froze on the register. Amy had never once asked about his hobbies. He doubted she even knew he liked to read crime novels, or that he sometimes stayed up late sketching. She had never asked.
The day dragged to closing. Customers trickled out, the doors locked, the counters cleared. Greg told another crude joke. Raj hummed a Bollywood tune as he stacked packages. Mrs. Denton sighed heavily, muttering about wasted ink on people who couldn't spell their own addresses.
Leo watched Amy and Jack laughing together as they counted stamps. Their heads bent close, shoulders nearly touching. His chest ached.
Outside, the sky was streaked with orange. The air smelled of wet pavement, though no rain had fallen. Leo walked beside Amy, as he always did, but now Jack was there too, his long stride matching hers.
"So," Jack said casually, "you ever been to The Lantern? Little pub on Fifth Street?"
"Oh, I love that place," Amy said. "Best nachos in town."
"We should all go sometime," Jack said, glancing at her, then at Leo.
"Yeah," Amy said quickly. "That'd be fun."
Leo nodded mutely. He hated pubs. The noise, the crowds.
At the corner, Amy smiled at them both. "See you tomorrow!" She walked off, her bag swinging lightly.
Jack raised a hand in farewell. "Night, Amy."
Leo watched her go, the hollow ache in his chest deeper than ever. Beside him, Jack stretched his arms and yawned. "She's great, isn't she?"
Leo swallowed. "Yeah. She is."
They parted ways, and Leo trudged home alone, the hum of fluorescent lights still buzzing faintly in his ears.
He smelled like paper, dust, and ink.