The hum of the refrigerator filled the small store and the air smelled faintly of coffee and cardboard. Lily Tran leaned against the counter watching the clock blink past midnight again. The glass door reflected her face, tired eyes framed by loose hair, the same uniform she had worn every night this week. Outside the parking lot lights buzzed like trapped insects, throwing pale halos over the pavement. Cars came and went, their headlights washing through the window for a second before vanishing into the dark.

She knew every customer by sound. The man with the heavy boots who always bought beer after his shift, the young couple who whispered while choosing snacks, the quiet old woman who paid in coins. Lily smiled at them all but her smiles never lasted long after they left. When the store went silent again she would check her phone, scroll through other people’s lives, and wonder how long hers would stay like this.

She had graduated two years ago and told herself this job was temporary. But months stretched into years and the routine settled like dust. Her manager praised her reliability, customers called her sweet, and none of them knew she dreamed about leaving every night. Sometimes she looked at the glossy magazines near the register, models staring out with easy confidence, and she felt a strange mix of envy and disbelief. They looked like another species, made of light instead of sweat.

At 2 a.m. she refilled the coffee machine, wiping the counter slowly, pretending the motion had purpose. The doorbell chimed and a tall man in a hoodie walked in carrying a stack of flyers. He smiled politely and asked if he could leave one by the counter. Lily nodded. After he left she glanced at the paper. A photo of a girl with bright eyes and the words “Model Audition – Seeking New Faces” printed across the top. The date was next week.

She laughed softly, almost embarrassed at how the idea brushed her heart. She folded the flyer and slipped it behind the register. Customers came and went until dawn, and by the time she clocked out the flyer had become a small weight in her pocket. On the bus ride home she unfolded it again, tracing the printed words with her finger.

The city outside was still half asleep. Streetlights flickered against the gray sky and the bus rocked gently as it passed the same streets she saw every morning. Her reflection in the window looked distant, blurred by the glass and the movement. She imagined her face on a billboard and felt ridiculous. But when she closed her eyes she saw herself walking down a runway lit by the same lights that now blinked outside the bus.

Lily pressed the flyer against her knee and whispered to herself, maybe just once, maybe I’ll try.