So as I lay there, this particular morning, the slightest thread of sunshine weaves its way through my alley-faced window. I open my eyes, lift my weighted shoulders, and embark towards the kitchen. A cup of coffee awaits me, as one would be for an expected visitor. I sit at the kitchen table. My trembling hands, shaking as I light a cigarette. I’m lost in my own thoughts. Sometimes, however, aided by this therapeutic combination of caffeine, nicotine, and sunlight I am able to begin to untie the knotted rope affixed to my brain. I’m ready to begin my day.

I quickly grab my work uniform and apron out of the hamper, stuff them into my checkerboard print backpack, stuff my wallet and smokes into my pockets, pick my phone up from the ground. She called me at 4am. I’m not calling back. Not this time. I swear this to myself.

Now out the door, I’m smoking as I walk down the avenue. I’m thinking. Who does she think she is? It had only been a handful of hours since I had seen her at the bar. I hadn’t even fully comprehended what had happened yet.

I’m late to work. I punch in and I begin cleaning my tables. The manager’s not there yet either. Him and I are not that much different. It seems many of us in the industry have some toxic relationships.

Work is work. I go through the motions, as different each day is from the other, it never deviates too far from the norm. Oh wow, hamburgers were popular today... who cares? I interact with my co-workers. Weather’s sure miserable, huh? Oh yeah, you mean to tell me that your sports team won? Maybe this will be the day I’ll be enlightened with the meaning of life.

I go to the bar after work. After all, I’m only human, right? We, as a species, are creatures of habit. If I were to go home, it would be inhuman.
The usual 6 o’clock crew lurking atop the bar stools. They’ve probably been in the same seat for the last 20 years. That was when they were about my age. I’m soothed by the stale air and popcorn, as are they. That’s right.

Again, alone with my thoughts, I pull out my phone. The time’s late afternoon. I remember the call earlier. Maybe she wants to apologize. I call her. I slouch down in my chair. My back feels quite weak. It must’ve been from lifting plates at work.

An answer… I hear a hello embedded in a smile from the other end. This immediately makes my heart slow in tempo. I inquire about the night before. The tension in her voice increases. Obviously it’s not my business. Why should I care? I mean, our plans to go see a show weren’t solid, right? I sigh with forgiveness. My muscles are almost atrophied.