The One

One

My shift is the usual. Uninteresting and quiet. Only about a handful of people actually come to eat.

'Before the new dawn people actually had to eat almost everyday to survive.' I think bitterly to myself for the hundredth time, as I rub out already sparkling wooden tables.

Hesther is leaned against the counter, playing some sort of game on his pear pad. "That table'll probably wear down faster with you rubbing it like that." He says, like he always does.

I ignore him, like I always do.

It's become a mind numbing routine.

I know that I should be grateful. A lot of restaurants have closed down due to lack of customers, we're barely afloat by sheer luck. A lot of people have gone unemployed and had to start carrying out humiliating and menial jobs like washing and cleaning for them.

I'm lucky to even have a job, even if it barely pays thirty bucks a week.

After taking out my anger on the tables, as usual, I stuff the spotless white wipe cloth into my little apron pocket and sigh.

"I think I'll take my lunch break now." I say, and, As always, I grab a ham sandwich and walk out to eat it sitting on the bench in front.

Even the weather seems bleaker today. Like It can sense the changes going on. The air has a tinge of grey to it, and the sun doesn't really warm me up like before. Normally, I'd be freckled all over my face by now. Silver lining I guess.

I tear the sandwich in half and leave some in the wrapper for later. I'll grab a fruit cup, for the vitamins only fruits and veggies can offer, and eat it on the roof of my home.

I'm just dusting off the crumbs when Sage calls out to me. "Lunch's over Harp. Don't keep these customers waiting.", as he always does. Sage is the head waiter, like that's actually a big job.

I stand and make my way in, even if there's no customers.

After four more gruesomely boring hours, I'm finally done with my shift.

Lance hands me my daily check, three dollars and 58 cents. When I said thirty bucks a week, I meant the free lunch too.

I stuff the money into my grey dove printed socks and hang my little apron skirt on a hook in the locker room.

Hesther is right behind me, stuffing his money into his little wooden can and going back out for an extra shift. I am jealous that he gets extra shifts more often then I do. It's boring, but the extra money is worth it.

He stops at the door, like he always does, and turns to me. "Don't worry. Soon I'll get a job at Marty's and you'll have this all to yourself."

As usual I don't say anything as he walks away. Marty's is a huge restaurant at the other side of town, and he's been saying this for a whole year.

Unfortunately for them, transportation was something they couldn't just do away with, and so, I have to be really careful as I cycle to the store and then home. It's daunting to be part of the only few who still cycle. Even the lower class has Scovers. We're the lower lower class.

My home is the top of a building complex. It's comfortable enough for the three of us and the easy access to the roof is an added bonus.

Dad is at the stove, mixing together some pasta. Pasta enough for him. I have my sandwich. This way, we save food and money. The only days I eat dinner with them are Thursday's and Friday's. I don't get a sandwich then.

He smiles at me and nods towards the stairs. Same as every other Tuesday, and I slowly trudge up the stairs that barely needs to be there. It's twelve in total. It's a good thing all of us are kinda short or we'd have to keep ducking all the time with the low ceiling.

Mom is looking out the window. Her auburn hair is pulled back into a soft bun at the top of her head and she's softly fingering her purple sweater.

"Mom." I say.

She barely shoots me a glance and hums.

With that taken care of, I walk to my room at the other end of the hall.

Purple walls, patterns if trees and a huge poster of my celebrity crush, Louis Partridge. He acted in a movie called 'Enola Holmes.' In the twenty first century. I'm sure he's probably either dead or pretty old now. They couldn't change the pretty old, something I'm grateful for. I'm not sure if I'll still love him if he changes. I'm sure I won't.

My bag goes to it's normal spot by the door. I toss my sneakers into the little pile of shoes by my table, grab my cup of fruit and my half eaten sandwich.

Dad hands me a water right before I leave.

Climbing up the steps, I realize at at least this hasn't changed. My love for the night sky and nature hasn't changed. At least they haven't started making the f*****g trees fake. Then, I might actually try and kill someone.

The sky is lit up with the numerous neon lights and such from buildings and the road, the concrete floor is cool. The stars have dimmed to barely noticeable dots but I love to believe that they're there. That is all the comfort I need to push into another day.