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Description
Pretty Little Faces

I came into the diner after waiting in my truck for a while. I fought every sliver of time that passed through me.

I shouldn’t be eating out again. I look stupid right now, people are gonna think less of me. I should have worn my jacket.

I came in to order a cheeseburger and small fries.

Give cashier the money.

I realized I hadn’t looked at the cashier's face. I hadn’t even made eye contact. How could I go this long without looking at a human being I’m exchanging words with? It wasn’t a big deal. I looked up, saw her eyes and bright smile, and saw all the other pretty little faces around me diligently working. Happiness.. I think. How could anyone enjoy anything? Especially working at a restaurant. It was all staged. They are hired actors. That take orders. What the fuck am I thinking.

Give cashier the money.

Oh, 3 dollars I could have spent on actual things... When’s the food gonna be ready. I want to sit down. That woman looks stupid in those pants. She thinks she looks hot in them? who does she think she is? Jesus fucking christ.

The food arrived before long enough to post an angry status about the service here on some social networking site I hated.

Stop eating so fast. There, better. I’m slouching. I need to lose weight. I need to stop eating here. It's okay it makes me feel good. No. No it doesn't. I'm gonna want a cigarette after this. That girl is walking really fast what is she doing?

What she was doing was entering a diner, wearing clothes that looked like she worked there, had an extremely distressed look on her face, and was rushing up to the manager.

"I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, please give me one more chance, please, please Mrs. Lind!" she said frantically as she began to cry.

She is starting to make a scene. This is very awkward for me and everyone else sitting here.

The manager quickly looked around and gave a false polite smile to an old couple, but I felt it was meant for everyone not employed there. She was sucking up to us. After her slightly annoying gesture, her shriveled up smile morphed into a shriveled up face with a finger to her lips and her head and shoulders caving in. She motioned the sobbing employee into the depths of the kitchen area of the restaurant. No longer were they in my sight.

She was probably late for like the millionth time and now she is supposed get fired and she has kids to feed, she probably is a drug addict and a drunk so she probably deserves it.

No. She looked... broken.

"No, please, no!" more cries from the kitchen.

Wow, now she is really bawling her eyes out. Why would she scream that, doesn’t she know that this is really uncomfortable for everyone?

The last words I heard from her seemed to echo the now quiet diner for minutes. I heard some smirks from some high school aged children, heard someone coming in, someone taking someone’s order.

Those words kept showing to the jury of my mind. Each time the verdict a little different.

The distressed employee stoically emerged out from the kitchen. Her eyes looked red, and her mascara artistically stained her cheekbones. She had a countenance that would weigh down even the Dalai lama. Shame. I knew that face very well.

I did.

It looked like on her what it felt like in me.

I made sure not to stare.

She left the diner. I never expected to see her again.

I never did.

I left the diner, too.

Description
Pretty Little Faces

I came into the diner after waiting in my truck for a while. I fought every sliver of time that passed through me.

I shouldn’t be eating out again. I look stupid right now, people are gonna think less of me. I should have worn my jacket.

I came in to order a cheeseburger and small fries.

Give cashier the money.

I realized I hadn’t looked at the cashier's face. I hadn’t even made eye contact. How could I go this long without looking at a human being I’m exchanging words with? It wasn’t a big deal. I looked up, saw her eyes and bright smile, and saw all the other pretty little faces around me diligently working. Happiness.. I think. How could anyone enjoy anything? Especially working at a restaurant. It was all staged. They are hired actors. That take orders. What the fuck am I thinking.

Give cashier the money.

Oh, 3 dollars I could have spent on actual things... When’s the food gonna be ready. I want to sit down. That woman looks stupid in those pants. She thinks she looks hot in them? who does she think she is? Jesus fucking christ.

The food arrived before long enough to post an angry status about the service here on some social networking site I hated.

Stop eating so fast. There, better. I’m slouching. I need to lose weight. I need to stop eating here. It's okay it makes me feel good. No. No it doesn't. I'm gonna want a cigarette after this. That girl is walking really fast what is she doing?

What she was doing was entering a diner, wearing clothes that looked like she worked there, had an extremely distressed look on her face, and was rushing up to the manager.

"I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, please give me one more chance, please, please Mrs. Lind!" she said frantically as she began to cry.

She is starting to make a scene. This is very awkward for me and everyone else sitting here.

The manager quickly looked around and gave a false polite smile to an old couple, but I felt it was meant for everyone not employed there. She was sucking up to us. After her slightly annoying gesture, her shriveled up smile morphed into a shriveled up face with a finger to her lips and her head and shoulders caving in. She motioned the sobbing employee into the depths of the kitchen area of the restaurant. No longer were they in my sight.

She was probably late for like the millionth time and now she is supposed get fired and she has kids to feed, she probably is a drug addict and a drunk so she probably deserves it.

No. She looked... broken.

"No, please, no!" more cries from the kitchen.

Wow, now she is really bawling her eyes out. Why would she scream that, doesn’t she know that this is really uncomfortable for everyone?

The last words I heard from her seemed to echo the now quiet diner for minutes. I heard some smirks from some high school aged children, heard someone coming in, someone taking someone’s order.

Those words kept showing to the jury of my mind. Each time the verdict a little different.

The distressed employee stoically emerged out from the kitchen. Her eyes looked red, and her mascara artistically stained her cheekbones. She had a countenance that would weigh down even the Dalai lama. Shame. I knew that face very well.

I did.

It looked like on her what it felt like in me.

I made sure not to stare.

She left the diner. I never expected to see her again.

I never did.

I left the diner, too.