“Go home,” I interrupt, trying to hide the mild annoyance in my voice—not directed at her, but rather at yet another hitch in the day. “Feel better, Sarah.” “Thanks, Abby.” But then, to make matters worse, I’ve barely been in my office for another half hour when Ben, another server, appears in t
Abby My eyes snap open to discover that someone, in the span of what feels like five minutes, my office has grown dark. There’s a hand on my shoulder, and an all-too-familiar face—with a smirk on it, of course—staring down at me. “Sleepy?” Karl asks, his lips twitching into a grin. I shake my
We weave through the streets, the bright signs of late-night diners and convenience stores flashing by in a blur. For a moment, the weight of my job—the critics, the health inspectors, the constantly ringing phone—lifts, and I find myself lost in the rhythmic hum of the car’s engine. Karl finally
Abby The lunchtime rush is finally easing up. Much unlike yesterday, it’s been a smooth day so far, and I feel relieved; but that’s exactly when it happens. I’m scanning the restaurant floor, making sure everything is running smoothly, when I hear the crash. It’s a shocking mix of the sound of c
“Are you sure?” I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want to impose.” “It’s not an imposition,” the woman assures me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson. You can’t go around causing trouble and not expect to deal with the consequences.” Just then, Karl emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on
Karl The sun is barely hovering above the horizon as I pull up in front of Abby’s apartment building on Friday morning. I can’t help but smile as I think about the day ahead of us. My black car idles, the hum of its engine drowned out by the pop song playing on the radio—a song I can easily imag
I miss those days, miss what we were. The regret hits me like a ton of bricks, settling heavy in my chest. It’s a regret that’s been there for too long, lurking in the shadows even when I was too stubborn to acknowledge it. Finally, after another hour and a half of driving, the towering trees give
Abby The scent of mahogany and bergamot fills the air as I step into the room that was once mine—our room, really. I feel so drawn to the familiarity of it all; the embroidered curtains, the chestnut armoire that I remember picking out myself, and the plush rug that used to cushion my bare feet