Chapter 3
I was working for 12 hours now, 2 hours overtime.
And by god, today may not be done but I sure am.
It's Tuesday, to no one's surprise, it was Tuesday this uneventful but weird morning and Monday the night I wanted to cry over a water bottle.
But after that whack dream, what can I say, time seems slightly irrelevant.
Which is what someone high on crack would probably say so I told myself to shut up and continued on with my day.
I'd need those overtime hours if I'm going to get any money for any type of medicine.
If I survive.
(It was that day that seemed surreal in its appearance that I remembered why I hadn't given up before and why I wouldn't quit until I was dust in the wind).
A woman strode in, clad in attire that screamed, "I'm trying to look like a civilian," and went to take her order.
"Ello, welcome to Kevin's Cafe, may I take your order?"
I said with a grin because, despite everything, there was no point in life if being happy wasn't one of them.
She wore a grey trench coat, a white blouse, black skin-tight jeans, and grey boots.
Mid-twenties, wealthy, intelligent, probably wanted something sweet.
"Ah, thank you, but I'm just waiting for my lab partner," She finished by crossing her legs and unconsciously folding her arms.
Closed, distance, alone.
I could relate.
I gave her a recommendation before leaving her to her own devices.
(The sun rolled down that day like any other, but the twilight brought an idea to a mind that traversed to another)
I fell asleep like I normally did, Philip snuggled into my stomach tonight, a rare gift.
(The world gave him a brand off hell and he only gave the world gold in return).