Rainy Days

02

Emilia

Beep. Beep! BEEP! I slam my hand against the alarm clock, miss, and then finally succeed when it falls off the nightstand.

"Aw, I was having such a great dream." I stifle a yawn, brush away my silver hair that clings to my face in messy tangles, and throw off the covers. "What time is it—"

Shoot! I squint, wiping my watery eyes, but the clock still blinks 7:20 pm. I chuckle—I have a two-shift part-time job to blame for my screwed-up sleep schedule. Focus, Emilia. I scold myself, reaching for my phone which only confirms I've been slacking on the job for the past ten minutes.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I mutter as if my boss, Hina, can hear me through the phone. Well, I certainly can hear her shouting at me from the texts, all-caps.

Swinging open the closest, I pull the red collared shirt over my head, the complementary black slacks that hug me in all the wrong places, and top it off with a standard visor cap. Eh, not a bad fit. I shove the covers into a corner, brush the stray locks out of my eyes, and sprint out of the apartment to the subway.

Streams of people flood the station, eyes baggy and bloodshot from a long day's work. I must be a funny sight to them, face flushed and hair whipping behind as I slip through the sliding doors. The last of the sun's rays dip beneath the window as I slump against the plastic chairs. Outside, the grassy suburbs slowly give way to towering skyscrapers, and the train screeches to a halt a few minutes later.

"Next stop..." The automated voice crackles on the intercom. I smooth my shirt before stepping out.

The wind whips at my face as I glance at my phone, the blue glow illuminating the little night around me. Friday, 7:30.

Blinking signs reaching out from the mesh of buildings on both sides cast an eternal liveliness on the city, which at night, only seems to have woken up. The buzz of conversation and movement brush against my ears as I weave through the crowd. I'm no stranger to city life, but to the people who live here, I'll never get how they deal with the noise at night.

"Sorry!" I yell as I shove past a couple, whose kissy-eyes shift into daggers at me.

Disheveled, and out of breath, I spot the familiar golden arches and stagger into the restaurant through the employee entrance. The front entrance—well, let me put it this way. You'll never get within ten feet of it at seven.

"Emilia!" Hina grabs me by the shoulder as I slink into the kitchen, her black hair in a neat bun, not a crease on her uniform. "What are you doing here so late?"

I rub my neck sheepishly, not daring to meet her piercing gaze. "Sorry, I just... overslept. I promise it won't happen again."

"Yada, yada. Oversleep again and I'll oversleep on your paycheck." she slaps a thick notepad into my hand. "Get over to the cashier and take care of these orders."

My eyes nearly water as I glance at the notepad—a staggering amount of orders in Hina's illegible chicken scratch. Can I file for cruel and unusual punishment? I chuckle, and head towards the cash register.

I sigh, my nose wrinkling as the aroma of greasy fries and seared buns wafts through the air. Nights like today are our busiest hours, with crowds lining up for a quick bite. A crackling radio hums between conversations, occasionally drowned out by my voice cutting through the din.

"Order 57! Big Mac meal with a large Coke and medium fries for John!" I call out.

"That's me. Thanks." The man walks up to the counter and I slide the tray towards him.