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🥘 eight. wind, sand, stars .⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊
"Get the fuck off my expo, chef, now! Back the fuck up!"
Her lungs burned as if they were filled with ocean water and it was slowly beginning to weigh heavily on her chest. The white tickets were spewing out from the machine, Sweeps doing his best to pin them all onto the metal shelves where they flapped openly in the wind, and the staff were rushing around. Sauces spilled onto the dirty white floors, eggs were cracked open while yolk sprawled out, and the blackened metal stoves were burning with flames licking the bottom of pots and pans. More and more pre-order tickets were printing from the machine while the phone rang mindlessly within the back office.
All chaos ran loose and there weren't even that many customers in the sandwich shop — actually, there were no customers in the store.
"We're firing seventy six beefs, thirty four chickens, okay? Twelve French fries, twelve mash fuckin' now! Still waiting on fifty five beef, twenty four chicken and pepper, forty one dogs, six Greek salads. Someone give me a fucking Sharpie that fucking works! Fuck!" screamed Carmy, his hair was greasy and his face was reddened by the stress and the amount of yelling he did.
A cake tray went flying when Richie and Sydney collided against each other, earning a mocking laugh from Richie as he walked away to tend to the fries.
"Oh, my God."
"You're a fucking loser! You waste space here!"
The pressure felt so tight onto Odessa's chest as she hurriedly rushed through the kitchen with packages of uncooked beef and meat. Her face glistened with salty sweat as she seasoned the beef with whatever seasonings she usually used. Garlic, paprika, thyme. Odessa was quiet as she tried to focus on her own station despite the fact that Richie had just gotten stabbed by Sydney and the kitchen was definitely going to shit.
Odessa imagined what a food critic would say if they were to walk into the sandwich store.
Two navy blue aprons were hung up and the back door slammed after each other, signaling that two workers had left in a fit of rage or overwhelming anxiety.
Her chest felt so tight that it was beginning to grow hard to breathe as she used a spoon to spread the butter against the cooked meat. It was starting to hurt as Carmy screamed out her name to check up on her station, but her breathing felt like it was gone. Wiped out so bad that her vision was beginning to double — her eyes were wide and glassy, her lips were pressed against each other.
