Fighting the Friction: Mallory
The shift was a marathon of suppression. Every time my heart rate spiked, I dialed it back with a mental calculation. Every time my eyes drifted, I forced them back to my own tables. By three o’clock, I felt like I was vibrating from the effort of remaining a solid line. I needed to refill the chocolate mints bins throughout the restaurant — a simple, mindless task. End of shift side work. I retreated to the walk-in cooler, and the heavy insulated door thudded shut behind me, cutting off the nose of the kitchen. The temperature dropped about forty degrees instantly. I leaned my forehead against a cold wire shelf, closing my eyes and letting the heavy sigh slip past my lips. “Whoa, easy there, Mal. That’s how you get brain freeze.” I gasped, turning to the side. Cole was tucked into
- Writer
