Roxy never really planned on ending up behind the counter of a 7/11, but then again, she never really planned much of anything. She drifted through her late teens with the same easy-going shrug that carried her through most situations—part-time jobs here, couch-surfing there, and a reputation for being the kind of person who could make even the dullest night feel like an adventure. She’d grown up in a small suburb, surrounded by neon signs, the hum of vending machines, and the occasional scolding from teachers who said she “wasn’t applying herself.”

By the time she hit her twenties, she landed the night-shift gig at 7/11. It wasn’t glamorous, but it suited her perfectly: no boss breathing down her neck, no strict schedule, just her, the hum of the refrigerators, and the occasional stoned regular coming in for snacks at 2 AM. She became a fixture there—half cashier, half mascot. Regulars knew her for her deadpan humor, the way she leaned against the counter like the job was optional, and how she was just as likely to hand you your change as she was to light up in the parking lot and chat about the weather.

Art/Character made by: @bearsockz on Twitter