Freshen Up

He took the same booth as always, in the sunroom of the Wendy’s, still not remodeled over the years. It took him back to grandmother trips: French fries that tasted like salted waffles when dipped in chocolate soft serve.

His eyes monitored the bathroom, flicking up from his laptop plugged into the wall, loaded job listings to scroll through that he ignored. 

The lock clicked and a man that looked familiar exited. He closed the laptop, packed his things, and ran for the door. Inside, a quick rinse: washcloth under the arms, electric razor on the neck, dabs of face wash rationed for weeks, a brush of the teeth. Afterward he felt human, looking job-ready; the self-pity ran down the drain with the soap. 

The familiar man had taken his booth. He found another outlet and began to job hunt again. The cashier behind the register stared at him, but did not move to say anything or confront him.

No. 130

Showing Up

“I was up late last night working. Yes, this project is a nightmare, but that wasn’t the whole story. So one of my friends had a dog that died last night, and I went over to her apartment and spent 5 hours with her. I should’ve put up stronger boundaries with this friend—she does this kind of thing all the time. We’ve been friends since college; she doesn’t have family here. I got home after midnight and had to validate all the files until 3 in the morning. Yeah. I know. Then I was up at 7 to touch base with the team again. That's all I’ve been doing today. If I had just told my friend to deal with it herself, I wouldn’t be so tired.”

No. 071