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His boss asks every Thursday, and Jamie always says yes. He’s too sweet to make someone stay when he can do it himself.

I don’t like that his boss knows that about him.

Jamie needs more sleep than he gets.

It won’t be a problem after tonight.

His boss leaves through the front door. Jamie locks it behind him, flips the sign to CLOSED, then turns the music up a little.

I stay where I am.

He knows I’m here. I come in most Thursdays, and I’ve stayed until closing before. Jamie never rushes me out. He just starts cleaning around me while I make my way toward the register.

Tonight he gets halfway through straightening a display before he stops. His hand stays on the same record for several seconds. Then he blinks and looks down at it.

I put the album I’m holding back where I found it.

Jamie tries again. He moves two records this time before his hand slips off the edge of the bin. He frowns.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He presses his fingers to his forehead. “I just feel a little weird.”

Poor thing. He worked too long again.

I cross the store toward him. “You should sit down.”

“I still have to close.”

“I’ll help you.”

His eyes find mine, a little unfocused now. “You’re always so nice.”

They’re so pretty when they soften around the edges. “So are you, Jamie.”

He lets me guide him to the chair behind the counter.

“You don’t have to stay,” he says.

“I don’t mind.”

“There’s still stuff I have to do.”

“I know.”

I straighten the last display, turn down the music, and carry the records he abandoned back behind the counter. When I look over again, he’s watching me.

His eyes are heavy now. “How do you know where those go?”

“I’ve watched you.”

“Oh.” He seems satisfied with that.

I finish what he couldn’t and get his coat from the hook in the back. His bag is underneath it. I bring both to him.

Jamie tries to stand. He makes it halfway before sitting down again. “I don’t think I feel very good.”

“I know, sweetheart.”