#Chapter 78: A Little Vacation
Abby
My eyes snap open to discover that someone, in the span of what feels like five minutes, my office has
grown dark. There’s a hand on my shoulder, and an all-too-familiar face—with a smirk on it, of course—
staring down at me.
“Sleepy?” Karl asks, his lips twitching into a grin.
I shake my head and sit up, trying to regain a sense of reality. The glare of the desk lamp sca tters
across stacks of invoices and order forms, casting a dim amber glow over everything.
“No,” I lie, looking away as Karl crosses the room back to the doorway. “I was just putting my head
down for a few minutes.”
A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s almost eight o’clock, and considering the fact that it’s a
Wednesday, the restaurant is already mostly quiet. Through my half-open office door, I can just barely
make out the faint sound of sc at tered voices and silverware on plates from the few customers who are
still hanging around, post-dinner rush.
Karl laughs and leans against the doorframe. “Sure. And what looks like drool on your cheek must just
be condensation or something, right?”
Drool? I swipe my cheek with the back of my hand and sure enough, it comes away wet. Great.
“Okay, you go me,” I mutter, smoothing down my messy hair. “This morning was hectic, and I didn’t
sleep too well last night…”
Karl shrugs. “Don’t sweat it,” he assures me. “In fact, you’ll be happy to know that after the health
inspector left, everything else went smoothly. No more food critics, no sick servers, no arguing
employees.”
I force a half-smile. So word really does travel fast; or rather, Karl is more attuned to the drama than I
thought. I never mentioned the sick servers and arguing employees to anyone, but someone must have
noticed.
I sigh, rubbing my
off the doorframe and saunters in again, perching on the edge of
a question for you about tomorrow’s delivery schedule,
you could use
my feet in an attempt to make
perfectly fine,” I lie, hoping
wavering slightly where
moments, Karl gazes at me without answering. There’s
time. And something about it makes
a feeble attempt to hide the
peering out into the dimly lit
kitchen will close soon
to reality. “You should go home,
shrug. “I’ll be fine. I’ll at least
I nod, and Karl sighs.
you home, okay?”
stare out the window for another few moments at the
reveals that my umbrella
my nap on my desk didn’t really
face Karl.
it quickly.
…
of my
and a hint of pine air freshener. The
rain, bounce off of the windshield as we drive. I’ve always loved the city in the rain, especially
neon signs look on a stormy
the streets, the bright signs of late-night diners and convenience stores flashing
moment, the weight of my job—the critics,
lost in the rhythmic
finally breaks the silence. “You looked like you were having
a tropical drink, and a server
“More like a health inspection nightmare. I can’t seem to escape the restaurant, even in
sleep.”
at me with a smirk. “Well, dreams are just unpaid
could get compensation somehow.”
subconscious is working overtime,” I reply, my words tinged with a fatigue
my apartment complex—a red brick
door. It’s
here, I almost walked into someone else’s apartment. That
embarrassing.
and turns off the engine, then looks at
sure you don’t need a vacation? My offer still stands. Remember the pool and
look away. Of course I remember the pool and the hot tub, and all of the
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