unregulated-muffin-mix:

Restaurant Gothic

• Each and every morning you brew and sweeten the tea. You pour bowl after bowl of sugar into the container until you can no longer notice the subtle taste of rust.
• A baby is crying. The sound is shrill but not unfamiliar as another child joins in complete unison. You don’t even notice the change in volume as you try to recall the last table’s order.
• “Checking in the back” reveals some of the largest cans you’ve ever seen with scratched out and illegible labels. You push past the multicolored cleaners, vats of chemical preservatives to keep the grills and floors young and vital for eternity. You hope you can find what you’re looking for.
• You freeze for a moment and realize someone asked for an extra side with their order. Was it the table that you just left? Did someone leave having never received it? You try to check the computer but the required authorizations begin to cloud the screen until you forget what you were trying to remember.
• The chefs’ hands move quickly and catch your eye. The films on the surface of their sauces bubble and churn as their ladles and spoons disturb them. The deep, red boiling seems to catch your eye before they quickly take one rectangular container away and replace it with a new one. Was there something wrong with it?
• A plate hits the ground and you can hear it break before you even see the impact. You feel a sharp pain in your side as the ceramic splits in two. Doubling over and muttering apologies doesn’t seem to help.
• In the manager’s office there are nine security camera feeds. Glancing over them shows a camera that points into the manager’s office. You try to find yourself on screen but seem to be unable to. You turn around to see a camera staring you down with its single onyx eye.
• You stretch your arm to reach further into the back of the fridge. The condensation feels cold and damp on the skin. And sticky. And much more cold now than you were anticipating. Looks like you might have found what you needed.
• The music inexplicably stops and the clusters of televisions cut to black. Without a foundation, all other noises in the building crumble before ceasing. Everyone looks around nervously in dead silence. You hope to God for someone to say something. Everyone is staring directly at you.
• The restaurant’s rear door slams shut and the silence of nighttime is deafening. The glaze on your eyes begins to melt. How long has it been since you left?