Fire is never a gentle master.
But they couldn't help it.
She burned so bright. Hot to the touch. An all-consuming force.
Of course they wanted her.
In a world where people have the privilege to pay for their abilities, she spent her life masteri...
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Twelve.
Only twelve minutes left 'till I lock up the shop and be free from it forever. My last shift. And then I would be taking on a new job, doing something that I actually want to. Instead of being miserable, bored, feeling unfulfilled while working at this restaurant.
I remove myself from my seat, the sound of the stool scraping against the floor overpowers the faint sounds coming from the small bluetooth speaker that was placed on the wall shelf just above the register. I reach for it and power it off, and the music instantly switches playing from the small device back onto my phone.
I sigh as I press pause. After working here for more than three years, why did I pick the last hour of my last day to play one of my original songs out loud? I should've been smarter. This place was packed occasionally and I could've taken the opportunity to amuse myself — play my own music out loud and see how strangers would react to it. Who knows, maybe someone would've liked it.
Eleven.
The owner, Mrs. Choi, emerges from the kitchen and hands me my last pay cheque. She purses her lips together and raises one of her horribly penciled eyebrows up at me. And then she sighs and shakes her head disapprovingly.
"Kids these days," she huffs. "Leaving their perfectly reasonable jobs for something so useless."
I wanted to answer her. I wanted to tell her that music isn't useless. That I was proud I got a job at the studio. I wanted to tell her that as long as you were passionate about something, then it couldn't be useless. But I bit my tongue back in order to prevent another petty argument from breaking out between us.
Ten.
"Well, I'll be going then." Mrs. Choi nods her head at me. I know she's trying to say goodbye but doesn't really have the emotional range to do so.
"Thank you, Mrs. Choi." I smile meekly at her. "For everything."
Despite our cat and dog like relationship, I couldn't deny that Mrs. Choi and her small noodle shop is what helped me get by. Perhaps this job was the only normal thing I had going on in my life, and even though I border line hated this place, it kept me grounded.
"Yes. You're still young. Make good choices, hm?" she replies and I nod. This is the nicest she's ever been to me, and I know that even though she won't say it out loud, she's going to miss me.
Nine.
The small bell placed on top of the door jingles, indicating that someone had entered. Mrs. Choi and I whip our heads to the direction of the entrance, both of us taking in the appearance of the guy standing there. He was holding the door halfway open, his head was peeking through, eyes darting around before they found mine. He smiled.
"Excuse me, are you still open?" he asks, still wearing the same smile on his plump lips.
