Order 73 ~DNF~

𝟘𝟜

𝒢𝑒𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒 𝒫𝒪𝒱

It's only when small hands grip my shoulders that I realize that I'm shaking from head to toe.

"–dude hey, what's wrong?" A concerned voice registers from above me. I make eye contact with Karl for a split second before darting to the bathroom, puking anything and everything I consumed within the last few hours. The putrid odor rises from the toilet bowl and I gag violently. I really need to get a hold on myself, or at least my stomach.

Karl rubs my back where I squat on the gross floor and I avoid his gray-eyed stare. Instead I wash my mouth, spitting out water and shielding my face in the crook of my elbow with a loud groan.

"George..." Karl calls softly. His tone makes me want to cry. I really barely know him, yet here he is.  I drop my arm and force my lips into a tired smile, waving off his concern along with my out-of-control emotions. There's no reason to be scared when I've got four hours to figure out what I'm going to do.

"Sorry, sorry. I ate a weird sandwich for lunch and I've already thrown up twice today. I just hate this." I whine, pushing my bottom lip out in a pout.

"That sucks man." He sympathizes, chuckling at my pathetic face. "If you need, you can head home. I can cover this shift for you."

"No!" He stares and I backtrack. "I need to get my mind off it. And tea sounds good right about now and I don't think I have any at home."

"Alright I'll get some for you." He assures. Karl walks back through the door and I watch him leave, hand rising to wipe away the sweat dousing my hairline. I should tell someone. Wilbur and Alex were still halfway across the country, participating in some national music competition with our university band. They won't be able to do anything so there's no point in worrying them.

That leaves Karl and Olivia. Both whom I've only known a week, and one who is literally sixteen. It's days like this when I wish I was more social.

I study my worn expression in the mirror. My hands cup together to catch the ice-cold water flowing from the tap, tossing it upward toward my face. I card my wet fingers through my hair, freshening it and slicking the front sideways off my forehead.

I grab the stupid pumpkin pie flavored chapstick I carry everywhere out of my jeans pocket. Alex got me a six-pack for Christmas because we insisted on gifts under fifteen dollars. I smack my lips. It's been a month and surprisingly, I'm still not tired of the flavor.

Karl watches me stand at my register with a frown but stays silent. Rather, he smiles warmly at the old couple who approach the counter. I move closer to catch their order and start making their drinks, pulling out the bag of marshmallows from the toppings drawer for their hot chocolates.

Eight is usually when we get a rush of college students coming in for a fix of caffeine to fuel their all-nighters. Professors love giving projects to finish over the weekend, so we don't get a break even today. Thankfully, we still have a bit over twenty minutes before that happens. There are two sets of couples huddled near opposite windows and a lonely girl sprawled over an open notebook with headphones over her ears, but other than that the place is relatively quiet.

"So how are your classes going?"

"Everything is great, except the editing stuff." He rubs the back of his neck. "S' kinda boring."

"You're a communications major." I note, raising an eyebrow. "That's like half your job."

"Not good is it?" He giggles. I roll my eyes with a smile, greeting a short teen. Her group sits themselves down at a large table and her frizzy curls bounce as she turns to me. I strain to hear her order, her words smothered by the large gray scarf hiding her nose. I relay half her order and we set to work, operating in perfect harmony. It's weird seeing people in typical fall attire. Windy days only come once in a blue moon in Florida.