The kitchen was too quiet for a Friday morning.
No clatter. No chatter. Just the low hum of the fridge and the occasional squeak of sneakers on tile.
Sasha stood near the coffee station, pretending to scroll through her phone. Really, she was watching the clock.
8:55 a.m.
Debbie walked in.
No words. No nod. Just went straight to the break room.
Sasha followed slowly, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
Inside, Debbie was at her locker, packing her things into a small cloth bag — gloves, hand lotion, an old water bottle.
Sasha hesitated. "You… quitting?"
Debbie didn't look up. "I'm preparing. That's all."
A pause.
Sasha crossed her arms. "I thought you didn't care."
Debbie zipped the bag. "Everyone cares when it's the end."
Out front, Carla was waiting.
Both women stood before her, like soldiers awaiting orders.
Carla looked tired — more than usual. Clipboard in hand, but she didn't open it.
"You're both here. Good. Shift starts in five minutes."
Sasha blinked. "Wait… are we both working today?"
Carla didn't answer. "One of you won't finish the shift. That's all I'm saying."
She walked away.
Luis approached, eyebrows raised. "She's playing games now?"
Sasha sighed. "I had a job application open last night."
Luis nodded. "You thinking of leaving?"
"I'm thinking of surviving."
Across the room, Debbie watched them — unreadable, still, her hands in her apron pockets.
She whispered to herself,
"One more shift."