Wide Asleep

One: I Am Here Now.

Saturday, October 20th, 2018
8:36 A.M.
Charlotte's P.O.V.
•~}=====>

My day, of course, is nothing to brag about. As was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that.
Wake up.
Brew coffee.
Wash face.
Drink coffee.
Smoke.
Put on makeup.
Drink more coffee.
Smoke another cigarette.
Get dressed.
One more cigarette.
Work.
Sleep.
Repeat.

And, as of late, eating has not been a part of my "glorious" schedule. I rarely have time for it between work and sleep.

Working for an hourly pay of $7.50 to deal with wannabe edgy kids and 40-year-old hipsters isn't exactly what I had in mind when I was offered a job at a local café downtown, near my old high school. I had believed that the job would get me a paycheck good enough so that I could pay off a used car, or at least something that would get me from point A to point B, the first being, well, here, and the latter being anywhere that isn't here.

It's been two years, and I'm still walking to work.

In high school, my teachers always told me that getting started in life is sometimes difficult, especially with a background like mine. I spent a majority of those four years living between homes, not a single host I've had being a family member. I never knew who they were, nor have I ever wanted to find out. They never wanted me, so in return, I never wanted them. I made it well off without them, so I decided to keep it that way a long time ago.

As I slide on my old, beaten-up Converse, I sigh aloud while sitting down to tie the laces. I slide on my glasses, and I grab my apron, deciding to carry it until I get to work. I grab my phone, shoving it more aggressively into my pocket than usual. Seeing as I was told off by an older man about not making his order exactly the way he wanted it yesterday, I would do anything to avoid even showing up to work today. I know I shouldn't let these things get to me, but I assume that living a childhood without a loving family like everyone else, I hold a lot of pent-up anger inside of me, and it releases itself in small outbursts upon any contact with an emotion of aggravation or anger.

I clock in to work five minutes early, obviously pleasing the sweet elderly woman who owns the café, Susie Campbell. She's probably the best part of my work day, because she still works harder than any of us to please her customers, even at the ripe old age of 118. She's probably the oldest living person in America at this time, but she's not fascinated by world records or anything of that sort. She's only focused on pleasing the people of Los Angeles, now.
Susie steps up to me, patting my back with a smile.

"How's my favorite girl?" She asks, sending me a grin. I smile back to her for a moment, tying my apron around my waist.

"Alright I guess, I had a pretty rough night last night." I reply with candor, as I spent my whole night tossing and turning, getting little to no sleep. Susie frowns, resting her gentle hand on my back.

"Are you sure you're alright, sweetheart? If you need to take the day off, you can. If you're starting to lose sleep, you need to rest."

I shake my head, giggling.

"I'm alright Ms. Campbell, I promise."

Susie sighs, chuckling to herself.

"I've told you a million times, call me Susie. Did you know you're the only one who didn't call off of work today?"