Open on the Other Side

Chapter 1

6:00 am. Mark wakes up and slams his fist on his alarm. It stops beeping with that painfully annoying sound. Monday morning. "Great, just great," he thinks to himself. Mark grabs his work clothes, changes into those from his boxers and t-shirt, he spikes up his hair in the mirror, straightens his "Ninth Street Espresso" name tag, and he's off to work. If only he knew what lied ahead of him, he would've stayed in bed that dreadful Monday morning.

7:00 am. Mark has the shop all set up and ready to serve. He walks over, unlocks the door, and flips the closed sign to open. "At least it's not Sunday," Mark thought. "I don't have to deal with that coffee rush. Ugh." You see, Mark liked his job, he really did. He loved serving others and drinking coffee. It was a perfect fit. But Mark hated mornings, absolutely despised them. He would be in a great happy mood by, say, 8:30 am. But 6:00 to 8:29, Mark was not okay. He didn't want to be grumpy, it was just a part of him. Even his co-workers knew to let him have space during that time. Luckily, today, no customers came in until around 8:30. No one had to deal with tired Mark.

The day was great. 9th Street Espresso had a good amount of customers, not too few, not too many, just right. The workers were ready to close up shop, it was nearing 8:00 pm. But just as Mark went to grab his stuff, not everything was like before. His keys, jacket, and phone should've been on the bench in the backroom, because he set them there just a few hours ago, but as you might've guessed, they weren't. "What in the world? I set my stuff right here," Mark said to one really, just himself. "You okay back there Mark?" That was his co-worker Sally. "Uh, yea I'm good! Just can't find my things!" He shouted back. "Okay. Yell if you need anything." Sally said. Sally was a helpful person, one that you could come to with problems. As it wasn't morning anymore, this was the fun, good-spirited Mark, so he kept his head up and searched. He eventually found his belongings on the far side of the room, on the floor, next to some sign he'd never seen. He grabbed his stuff and turned to leave when he doubled back. "What was that sign?" he thought. He bent down to see. It was an open/closed sign, set to "open," resting on a door so small that Mark didn't even see it at first. "How odd," he thought. His curiosity taking control, Mark opened the door, and crawled through.