Allison is alone with her thoughts again.
She could go for a smoke right now. Even just a puff; grab it out of a stranger's hand and just take a quick inhale and give it back, don't even say anything. Anything to put her to ease, just long enough until Amelia comes around for a visit.
She opens the fridge and grabs out a carton of milk. The electric kettle's button flips up. She grabs a mug from the cupboard and makes herself a coffee. She goes to the lounge room, not really feeling a part of the world. She's in autopilot mode.
You shouldn't have left she thinks.
Allison shakes her head vigorously. Get that out of your head.
You should have stay—
OH, GO FUCK YOURSELF. That's what he screamed at her. Those were his last words that stabbed through her ear, and they've never left her since. She thinks about it every day. Every day for five years.
Allison sits on the couch and turns on the TV. It's still raining outside, some moments it's extremely heavy and other times it's light and airy. Her mood has changed significantly since leaving the café.
Amelia isn't going to come. She was just being polite, she didn't want to make Allison feel any more embarrassed than she already did. The piece of paper that Allison wrote her address on is probably in the bin, along with all the trash that will soon stink up the earth.
She is fake. The bright personality and the whole bullshit about not being a good cook, it's all just part of the job, it's all to add to the homey charm of the café. Maybe Allison will go back another day when she's on shift, make Amelia feel uncomfortable.
Allison hasn't had anyone for company at this point, why on earth would she get someone now?
GO FUCK YOURSELF
Shouldn't have left. He must have been so scared.
Another shake of the head. It rattles the thoughts around in her head, jumbles them up and they get lost for a few moments. But they always realign; takes shape of a circle that surrounds her brain, and moves around in a circle that doesn't stop moving.
Allison grabs the remote and turns up the volume. The TV is displaying some cooking show, something that's meant to be healthy but all the ingredients are too expensive.
She flips the channel: some horror movie. Another switch: the news. Another: some TV radio station.
On and on she keeps switching the channels. It's not even to find anything to watch; but more for the sake of doing something. She sees the same shows pop up on the screen again, and after a few clicks it's there again.
GO FU—
Shouldn't have le—
She takes a sip of her coffee. It's already lukewarm. How long has she been sitting here for?
Five years she thinks. It's all she can think about now.
YOU ARE READING
Night Shift
General Fiction"It's the same routine every night. I've done it so many times I can basically lock everything down to the very millisecond. Hell, maybe even the very nanosecond. "
