Chick Lit Weekly Prompt Entries 2018 and Flash Fiction Prompts

The Shift Prompt #16

I look around the dingy coffee shop and sigh. I am one hour into my eight hour overnight shift. I watch the clock turn to midnight and silently wish myself happy birthday. Twenty-five, a quarter of a century, and what do I have to show for it? A psychology degree, that without a masters and possibly a doctorate is useless. Why didn't anyone tell me at seventeen that I'd end up with nothing, but school loans after four years of college? Truthfully my father had, but I thought I was smarter than him and didn't listen. How wrong I was!

So I am officially half way through my twenties and living in a dive apartment with my college roommate. I work a temp job doing very exciting things like data entry five days a week and take night classes for my masters. At this rate, it will take me another three years to graduate. Then every Friday and Saturday night, I work overnights to ensure I can make my rent. I could quit, but that would mean moving in with my parents. Then I would be more of a failure than I already am.

There are seven tables occupied and a few individuals at the counter. Gunther, I know, but it really is his name, is working the grill. I refill a couple of coffee cups and notice a large group outside the door. I know the type already, post party, drunk, college kids. There is just a hum of voices in the shop, until the door opens and the co-eds herd in. They are loud and laughing. I wonder, was I really like that just a few years ago? I spend the next half hour serving them. Keeping drunks happy takes skill, but keeping the grabbing hands away takes practice. Luckily, Gunther is aware and watches through the window as he cooks. One word from me and he will be out on the floor protecting me. Gunther is burly and covered in tattoos. He actually looks intimidating when he is smiling, so with Gunther, I feel safe.

Before one, Bill strolls in. He works at the hospital until midnight and likes to have breakfast before going to bed. When it's slow, he will tell me stories. I can tell he is lonely with his wife gone and his kids grown. He once traveled the world in the Navy and never runs out of adventures to share. I like to think that our friendship gives him a bit of joy. He always leaves a generous tip, so I'm probably right.

Sometime later Officer Damon has his dinner break. He doesn't work overnights all the time, but enough that I know him. Lately he hasn't been as cheerful as he once was. I found myself worrying about him last week.

Tonight I ask, "Why are you so glum?"

He smiles and says, "Chum!" I laugh at his joke, because I wasn't even thinking it. He looks serious and says, "Life."

"Don't I know it," I sigh.

"What's wrong with your life?" he asked and adds, "You have you're whole life ahead of you."

"You're not over the hill, yet," I reply. To me he looks about forty. "Meanwhile I have to work this lousy job just to pay my rent."

"I may be paying rent soon. The wife thinks we need a break."

I decide that he does have a reason to be glum. "Sorry. What are you going to do about it?"

"What can I do?" he asks confused.

"I don't know. Figure out what she wants the break from and change it. You know if you're a lazy slob start helping."

I walk away to another table, but I can tell he is thinking. I wonder what he is like at home. Is he one of those guys who would rather watch sport than have a conversation? Maybe he's shut down refusing to share any emotions. Maybe she is just unhappy with herself. Perhaps the reason lies someplace in between.

I gave up hoping that some guy would walk in and sweep me off my feet. The only sweeping happening here is of the dropped french fries and toast under the tables. Prince Charmings do not frequent coffee shops in the middle of the night. I look around, except for the guy in the corner. I had this couple figured out the minute they walked in. They had that awkward look of two people who didn't know each other well, yet they have been talking for hours. I'll put money down that they are on a first date that neither wants it to end. Some would keep it going at his place or hers, but not the good guys. Those are the guys who believe in getting to know a girl first. I'd like to find one of those. Unfortunately even if I did, I'm too busy to date.

I sigh, noticing that I still have a few more hours before I can sleep. Today my sleep will be short, because I'm expected home for my birthday dinner. I hope my parents give me money.  That is what I need since the only other thing I need is time and that can't be bottled and sold.

I smile when I see Jimmy lumber in. He is our youngest regular and not much older than me. I think of Jimmy as an irregular regular, because he has periods when he doesn't come out at night. I never know if that is good or bad. He says that he has insomnia, but I suspect that is just a symptom. With still a long way to go in my master's program, I am not qualified to diagnose, but I suspect that Jimmy has depression or perhaps he's bipolar. He does act normal for a young guy who hangs out in a dingy shop drinking coffee in the middle of the night.

I think as I have once or twice, if only, because he is cute, but my life is a wreck. The last thing I need is to get involved with someone with more problems than me. Still I wish I could help him, as I want to help all my night time friends.

The officer gets up and says, "Have a good week."

"Thanks and hey, I hope things work out at home," I reply as he heads out.

It's funny how all the regulars are men. Woman don't wander around in the middle of the night alone. I know I wouldn't be here if I had a choice. The customers start to switch from those who have been up late to those that are starting their day early, but not before Ron stops in for a coffee and muffin. Ron is always cheery and makes me laugh. He is in the midst of delivering the morning paper.

"What's in the news today, Ron," I ask.

"It's always the same."

Just like his answer every week is always the same, I chuckled.

Every morning, Gunther turns a blind eye as I take a cup of coffee and some food out the service door to John who is waiting for me, by the dumpster. Sometimes I have gifts for him like socks or soap too. We developed this routine after I went to throw some trash in the dumpster and found him sifting through it.

Helping John reminds me that no matter how crummy my life seems, it is better than living on the streets. It was because of John that I now spend Wednesday evenings, when I don't have a class, serving meals at the soup kitchen. That's when my life has purpose.

My last hour gets busy as early birds come for breakfast. I am surprised to see my parents walk in ten minutes before my shift is due to end.

"Happy Birthday!" my mother calls out as every head turns to look at me.

I feel embarrassed, but I notice that even Gunther is smiling. I'm smiling, but not because it's my birthday or that it appears as if my dad is going to buy me breakfast. I'm smiling because my long shift is finally over.