Status: updates on tuesdays and thursdays, authors' schedules permitting
Timer
Count
Today is the day. Supposedly, this is the day that’s supposed to change my life. I’ve been prepared for this my whole life, but at the same time, I haven’t been - is this a casual event, or semi-formal? Chances are I’ll end up meeting him in my uniform anyways, but I might as well at least make an effort with a nice pair of jeans. I left my house, keys and wallet sitting in my pocket, and started to walk towards the bus stop, making eye contact with every person I passed on the street. They smiled knowingly, but I still had time left on my timer, which I was checking compulsively, as if it would make timer go faster.
I rode the bus to work, not really looking forward to working the sunday brunch shift, full of bitchy women’s breakfast groups and families with too many kids. At least I would catch the tail end, ten to two. The bus ride was short, and I reached the brunch bar and grill scene, which, by the way, is the only place you can eat in hell. There’s a constant ‘seventy to eighty minute wait, is that alright?’ and overly perky hostess present.
Time that morning slipped through my fingers, while I was called over to table after table by clicking fingers and calls of “um, waiter?”. It was nearing the end of my shift, and the restaurant had practically emptied out. Not many people want to eat brunch past one thirty, they have things to do. I, however, only have one thing to do today. And that thing will be happening almost right after I get off my shift.
As I finished cleaning tables and served a couple at a window seat, my heart started beating faster, and I began to sweat. Of course, I have to meet the person who’s I’m going to love looking like a hot mess. But it isn't like I make spectacularly good first impressions anyway.
I'm fairly sure that this is the worst part about having a timer, these last moments, when you’ve got nothing to do but wait, the only thing you can think of is oh, god, I’m going to meet the person I’m supposedly going to spend the rest of my life with... today. I guess I should probably go outside, my shift’s over in just a couple minutes anyways.
I pulled open the door and walked down the two short concrete steps. Three. Two.
I rode the bus to work, not really looking forward to working the sunday brunch shift, full of bitchy women’s breakfast groups and families with too many kids. At least I would catch the tail end, ten to two. The bus ride was short, and I reached the brunch bar and grill scene, which, by the way, is the only place you can eat in hell. There’s a constant ‘seventy to eighty minute wait, is that alright?’ and overly perky hostess present.
Time that morning slipped through my fingers, while I was called over to table after table by clicking fingers and calls of “um, waiter?”. It was nearing the end of my shift, and the restaurant had practically emptied out. Not many people want to eat brunch past one thirty, they have things to do. I, however, only have one thing to do today. And that thing will be happening almost right after I get off my shift.
As I finished cleaning tables and served a couple at a window seat, my heart started beating faster, and I began to sweat. Of course, I have to meet the person who’s I’m going to love looking like a hot mess. But it isn't like I make spectacularly good first impressions anyway.
I'm fairly sure that this is the worst part about having a timer, these last moments, when you’ve got nothing to do but wait, the only thing you can think of is oh, god, I’m going to meet the person I’m supposedly going to spend the rest of my life with... today. I guess I should probably go outside, my shift’s over in just a couple minutes anyways.
I pulled open the door and walked down the two short concrete steps. Three. Two.
♠ ♠ ♠
Yeah. There you have it, I guess? I'll try to update more frequently and make longer chapters. You know how it is with starting chapters.