Gas Station Boyfriend

I have a gas station boyfriend. There, I said it. Our love is forbidden. Him working at a gas station, me working for the private art college. We come from different worlds, and sadly I think this is how it will remain. So for a few minutes in the morning, when I'm paying for my coffee, and he greets me in his usual, caring way, things are right in the world. The bill passes from my hand to his, and I know how he feels. He's easy on the eyes, and always has such a way with words. "Have a good day," he quips. He's a charmer, my gas station boyfriend. We don't bother with names or small talk, and if only society wasn't so cruel, maybe we could go public, but until then, we'll always have the French Roast.