Maria

     I came into work the next evening as scheduled. We got slammed with a standing line of customers out to the parking lot. Luckily the new managers over-scheduled and we had more bussers than we needed. Someone needed to break down boxes, and I did not want to buss so many tables. I volunteered immediately, though aware of the mountain of boxes piling in the alley.
     The bulb had blown out leaving half the alley dark. I launched into my project as the sky darkened. Not long after I had started, Maria came out and pulled up a crate. She had long dark hair that she would release from her ponytail prison whenever she came out to smoke. I never understood why she did this, because when she was done, she had to put it back up again and she came out a lot. She lit up, and sighed.
     “I’m beginning to enjoy these more and more.” She looked at me but I showed no response. She chuckled and filled in the blanks.
     “I’m pregnant. Soon I’ll have to get off ‘em.” Again, no response. It was not my place, and anyway, I wouldn’t have known what to say. It always perplexed me: she was less than a year older than me but she seemed so much older. But as I thought more and more about it, it became less and less about how much older she seemed. And I would gravitate towards some other source.

She changed gears.

     “I don’t know. Every time I come out here, I feel trapped.” Looking up, “It must be the fence. I mean, who puts a fence over an alley? Some retards I guess.”
     As she said this, a young family walked past the window towards the front entrance and I dragged my fingers through my hair, “There are so many boxes!”
     She gave me a short look and agreed; flicking the filter into the broken glass bucket, she retreated back to her tables. The mountain was half the size it had been.

to be continued...