Ash

Stressed from the violent events in the morning, Ash nearly tripped several times in his rush, but somehow, he made it unscathed. 

“You’re late,” the manager angrily greeted Ash with his arms crossed in the kitchen.  With his hair still wet from his five-minute shower, he ran to work from his apartment but didn’t make it on time.  

Ash tucked the rolled-up, still-damp dress shirt under his armpit and hunched over the back door to catch his breath. He was sure that he would make it on time, but five minutes late was still tardy. 

“I-I’m sorry. It won’t, um, h-happen again, sir,” he looked up and gave him a weak smile. Conflict resolution was never his strong point. A compromise was never on the table. It was easiest to give in to the person that he had offended, no matter who was at fault. 

The portly manager bent down and wagged his finger in Ash’s face, “I’ll be docking half of your pay for today, don’t do it again.” Droplets of spit landed on Ash’s freshly washed face and hair.

It was customary of this restaurant, a dock in his pay for his tardiness. He hadn’t been late for over a year now because he just couldn’t afford to be.

There was a mantra at work:

When you’re early, you’re on time. When you’re on time, you’re late. When you’re late, then we dock your pay.

The blood in Ash’s head pounded. He was upset. But what could he do? 

Whenever he tried to fight back in the past, they would threaten him with termination. That in itself wasn’t too big of a deal. It was that they followed up with the threat to get him blacklisted.

Restaurants talk. Owners and employees gossiped about horrible clients and employees alike. The manager would give him a terrible reference to any potential employers that called.

Gossips and nasty rumors always spread like wildfire. Ash never spoke to anyone unless spoken to; he spent a lot of time listening to others’ conversations over the years. 

Being invisible had its perks; he witnessed some pretty interesting things, things that he kept to himself since no one would believe him anyway.

His favorite was the floor filet incident. The grill chef dropped a steak onto the floor, and proceeded to pick it up, then tossed it back onto the grill. His mind assigned the man the nickname of “Floor Filet.”

Once again, he kept this to himself.

Distracted, he dipped his right hand deep into the sink, and the murky water rushed into his glove. He panicked and yanked off his glove. He tried his best to wash his hand, but there was only so much that he could do without unraveling the bandages.

The cut worsened with every dish as the day progressed. A sharp pain shot from his hand every time he had to use any amount of grip strength. 

He wanted to go home early, but he had already come to work late; there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell for him to leave early without consequences. 

Ash had enough rejections in this lifetime; He didn't need to add more to the mountain that weighed him down.

He sighed.

AJ. What was up with that guy, AJ—my jacket!!

The notebook. Flustered that he had forgotten entirely about his jacket and book, Ash accidentally sprayed himself with the pre-rinse sprayer. Keys and his phone always went into his jeans pockets. But the notepad was a little too big; luckily, it fit perfectly in his bomber jacket, his favorite jacket.

The thought that AJ might have found it and leafed through the content crept into his mind, and he started to panic. There was never a reason to worry about people seeing it since everyone steered clear of him at work, and he didn’t have any friends to worry about; today was the first day that he worried about that.

~

Amazing fan art by Wouldrathernotsay. Idk what I did to deserve this, but thank you so much 💕 you genuinely surprised me with this piece 🥰