Broken
You let him burn for a while.
"Fine, Donnie, I'll do it" The relief is noticeable; his posture and stare relax at sight.
"Allright. Here's everything" he says, and passes you a thick, brown envelope trough the table. "See you tomorrow. Have a smooth one"
"See ya, Don" you reply and take the parcel.
He gets up and gives you an angry look. Then he gets his coat, wears it and leaves trough the wooden door with the glass.
You feel the package with your hands. It's not different from the dozen others you've got before. You get up and go take a piss at the bathroom, which is a surprisingly clean one. For some reason though, the owner has though it a good idea to put posters and pictures of American presidents on the walls. The result is intimidating, as the room is only around 5 square meters big, and you're left with no cover from their somehow condescending stares. Abraham Lincoln stares you right in the eye while you urinate. It comes to you that you could have done a better job than Mr Booth.
You leave some coins on your table and nod the apron man goodbye, as you exit the cafeteria and walk the stairs back to the alley. You notice the man with the blank stare is still here. He's changed sides, so he's facing the wall now. His beanie is falling of, as if in a desperate attempt to escape from his doomed owner. The man looks like a living carcass. You wonder what motivates him to go on. Maybe he knows something you don't.
"Fine, Donnie, I'll do it" The relief is noticeable; his posture and stare relax at sight.
"Allright. Here's everything" he says, and passes you a thick, brown envelope trough the table. "See you tomorrow. Have a smooth one"
"See ya, Don" you reply and take the parcel.
He gets up and gives you an angry look. Then he gets his coat, wears it and leaves trough the wooden door with the glass.
You feel the package with your hands. It's not different from the dozen others you've got before. You get up and go take a piss at the bathroom, which is a surprisingly clean one. For some reason though, the owner has though it a good idea to put posters and pictures of American presidents on the walls. The result is intimidating, as the room is only around 5 square meters big, and you're left with no cover from their somehow condescending stares. Abraham Lincoln stares you right in the eye while you urinate. It comes to you that you could have done a better job than Mr Booth.
You leave some coins on your table and nod the apron man goodbye, as you exit the cafeteria and walk the stairs back to the alley. You notice the man with the blank stare is still here. He's changed sides, so he's facing the wall now. His beanie is falling of, as if in a desperate attempt to escape from his doomed owner. The man looks like a living carcass. You wonder what motivates him to go on. Maybe he knows something you don't.