Torn down and there’s nothing left to tell who she was
before. She carries her head low, mumbles the answers to questions and smiles
without soul. She’s lost something and everyone can tell. She’s different and silent
and still.
She glides across the floor in small blue shoes, taking
orders and delivering food. Her tips reflect a real loss of personality. People
who used to pay for a smile or a laugh now pocket an extra dollar almost sadly.
Her trips to the kitchen are short, in one door and out the other just long
enough to place the order. No one asks her questions or tells her jokes, not
like they used to. She doesn't laugh anymore, she doesn't know how to.
Tell her you need a coffee and she pours you a cup. Tell her
you’re bored and she sighs. Her feet are sore from standing, her eyes are
deeply red, her tongue is swollen from disuse and her mind is ready for bed. It’s
been a long week and the year is longer still. If she just makes it through
today, she thinks tomorrow will be the same. If she makes it through the month
her mind will be made. She isn't staying long she decides, not long enough to be
noticed. Everyone here will forget me
after I put in my two weeks’ notice.
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