Zazen

Flocks of men in white shirts, crisp sleeves rolled down over their tattoos, kissed ass daily just to work for nothing. Hostages taking each other hostage. Jazz hands.

I call it a war but Credence says it isn’t one. Not yet. I say they just haven’t picked a day to market it. Soft opens being all the rage.

That’s the problem with me. I want to believe in a world of endless second chances but I can’t.

“I hope Franklin told you we pool tips,” she said and began to separate the change. “He tries to pass it off as communism but it’s really so he doesn’t have to pay the cooks.”

“I like to think of myself as a coworker with lots of experience rather than a boss,” Franklin said. I like to think of myself as a boss more than a slave but mostly I prefer to not think about it at all because