It crumbles

            Not quite ready to go back to my apartment, I find myself walking into the cafe that I work at. I sit at the bar and look at myself in the mirror: I can't stop slumping over the counter, but my hair does look better than I thought it would for being tied in a giant knot.

            "Are you hung over?"
            "I'm not old enough to drink yet."
            "Then technically you're not allowed to sit at the bar."
            I take my sunglasses off. "Can you get me something to eat?" My co-worker goes to bring me the biggest salad we have. With all the things I ask to be left off of it, I know it's just going to end up being a big bowl of lettuce with bacon bits on it, but it's the biggest salad we have.
            I turn my head a little to peek at the guy sitting at the other end of the counter. He's already looking at me and I look at him full on now. He doesn't look away, but I realize he's actually watching his server behind me coming with his eggs benedict.

            "Are you hung over?"
            "I was out late last night. And I'm sick."
            "I probably can't swing by with getting you a coffee, but I'll bring you a drink." My other co-worker leaves and brings back a soda.
            I see the Sloans sitting in their usual booth. Mr. Sloan, short and fat with his dark crop of hair, flip-flips, cargo shorts, and hawaiian shirt; Mrs. Sloan, exotic and threatening with her weathered skin, dry hair, wedge heels, and giant rings. Whenever I'm working, my boss disappears for at least twenty minutes to go and schmooze with these regulars. I wonder if they're important people or if they've just managed to make a name for themselves here.

            "Do you need a towel for your forehead or something?"
            My boss laughs at himself and fills the rest of my glass with water before leaving. The server who brought me a drink comes back with a pain killer and sets in on the counter. I take it but my soda's too watered down to drink anymore after that.
            "Are you okay?" she asks.
            I yawn. She starts rolling silverware.

            The first server comes back with my salad and I leave a dollar on the counter for her before I leave. I salute them both goodbye and then wave at the Sloans and my boss sitting together as I walk outside. They look, but don't wave back

            Before I put my sunglasses back on, I look in the bag at my food. I forgot to ask for no bleu cheese. It's going to take forever to pick it all out.

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-rae