What Do You Want
What Do you Want? The window lights to Ink Kink were turned off as Markus grabbed the broom in the corner by the counter. Knowing that the artists clean their stations prior to leaving, he knew he wouldn't have to clean up after them, but it was the public that never cleaned up after themselves. For Markus, cleaning was like dancing, but it was always the same steps to the same song. He started around the counter first and then slowly worked his way through the shop to the backroom. Just within a few steps into the cleaning dance the bells at the front door jingled, “We're closed. The lights are out for a reason, and this is not a moment to say that the customer is right,” Markus's voice echoed throughout the empty parlor. When he didn't hear the jingle of the bells, he stomped
- Writer
