[MAX]
I don’t usually go asking for trouble these days. If past experiences have taught me anything at all, it is to mind my own f*****g business and try to be content with what I have.
Perhaps that’s the reason when a fight breaks out in the cafe where I work these days, I don’t bat an eye and leave them be. My coworkers and even the other customers give me strange looks as I walk past them, likely expecting me to take some kind of action to stop the situation.
I don’t. Don’t ask why. I just don’t.
Instead, I sneak my way behind the counter and swing open the door at the back. The door flaps shut behind me as I come face-to-face with the chef—Patrick Dawson—also known as the owner of the cafe.
He appears occupied, whistling and swirling down the name of a kid waiting for his birthday
