Free Happy World by Kiernan Kelly, Tory Temple

isn’t like me. He forced himself to his feet, into the kitchen, and began to go through the motions of making a tuna salad sandwich. Just as he plopped a spoonful of Miracle Whip onto the small mound of chunk light tuna -- albacore was outside his meager budget -- he froze.
    That’s it, exactly, isn’t it? That’s the problem. This isn’t like me. I never make waves, never make trouble. I take whatever ball of crap anyone flings at me, and brush it off with a smile. It was me Charlie humiliated. I’m the one who caught the heat from Garrett about the complaint Charlie filed, and accepted it, even though I knew Charlie was lying. I’m the one who should’ve stood up to Charlie and defended Rory from Charlie’s lies, but I didn’t. Par for the course for me, right? It’s just another example of good ol’, bend-me-over-may-I-have-another Kyle. Everyone walks all over me and I let them.
    Why? Because I love my job? That’s no reason to put up with being embarrassed and harassed at work. If anyone knows the rules, I do. There are channels I could use, procedures in place for things like this. I could’ve reported the incidents to my manager. If Garrett wouldn’t cooperate, I could’ve gone to my union rep, filed a grievance.
    I didn’t, because I was afraid. I was afraid the Company would pick Charlie over me. Why? Because Charlie is handsome? Because he’s a face character and I’m only a lowly Groundskeeper? What makes face characters so much more important than the other Happy World employees? We work just as hard as they do. If it wasn’t for us, the Park wouldn’t be as magical. It sure as shit wouldn’t be as clean.
    I’ve got a stellar work record. Spotless. No points, no unexcused absences, no written warnings. Great reviews, and commendations from guests and management alike. I’m nice, polite, never make trouble, and always follow the rules.
    Charlie’s nothing but a good-looking douchebag.
    I’m a coward.
    He dropped the spoon in the tuna, set the Miracle Whip jar on the counter, and sat down on a kitchen chair, staring into space.
    That’s it. That’s why I couldn’t stand to be at Happy World another minute. That’s why I told Rory I couldn’t train him anymore, and why I ran. I’m a fucking coward, and I’m mad because Rory had the balls to go after Charlie and I didn’t. I’m sick and tired of being invisible, and even more tired of being stepped on, but I still couldn’t find the nerve to say anything to Charlie.
    It’s not Rory’s fault. Oh, sure, he shouldn’t have gone after Charlie onstage, and especially not in front of guests, but the one who lost control was Charlie. Rory’s new --Charlie should have known better.
    It’s me I’m pissed off at. Too bad I can’t walk away from me.
    A knock at the door startled him. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he wasn’t particularly friendly with the neighbors. He would wave and nod when he saw them in the hallway, but that was the extent of it.
    Solicitors weren’t allowed inside the apartment building, but that didn’t always stop the occasional, over-enthusiastic entrepreneur, or Girl Scouts selling cookies. He went to the door fully expecting the person on the other side to be one or the other. He peered through the peephole and gasped.
    Rory stood outside the door, looking slightly distorted through the peephole’s fisheye lens. He was still dressed in his white Groundskeeping costume.
    Kyle glanced at the kitchen wall clock, visible from the front door. Their shift had ended a half-hour ago. Rory must have come straight to Kyle’s apartment from work.
    Kyle unchained and unlocked the door and flung it open. “What are you doing here, Rory? How did you get my address?”
    “Hi, Rory. Good to see you. Come on in and sit a spell,” Rory said with his usual sarcastic tone. He leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest, his cheek hitched in a lopsided grin.
    Kyle frowned. “How did you find me?” he