It was around ten after Life when he came in. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Nightshift was the best shift, to the three that worked at the diner at The End.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It let the dishwasher have a break when their feet started to hurt. It let the cook wear headphones while he worked. And it let the waitress write in her journal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The customer was no one special. An average joe with a bit of scruff and a plain, if respectable outfit. He sat at a booth near the kitchen and ordered a cup of coffee, some pancakes, and a side of hashbrowns. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As the waitress poured some coffee, he asked her, \u201cWhere am I?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She shrugged. \u201cWhere you\u2019re supposed to be.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he shook his head. \u201cI really don\u2019t know where I am!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know,\u201d she said calmly. \u201cAnd like I said. You\u2019re where you\u2019re supposed to be.\u201d She set a small pitcher of cream and sugar shaker down. \u201cFood will be ready soon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWait!\u201d He nearly grabbed her arm. \u201cMay I have a pen and napkin please?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She brought him the requested items and went back to the kitchen. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey\u2019re always so jittery,\u201d she commented to the cook. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He flipped a pancake and nodded. \u201cHe\u2019ll calm down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know. Are they on a break?\u201d The waitress glanced at the sink full of bubbles. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey\u2019re having a snack.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The waitress nodded and wandered back out to check on the man at the booth. He was writing on the napkin, looking puzzled as he did so. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNeed more coffee?\u201d She asked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI can\u2019t remember,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCan\u2019t remember what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt.\u201d He shook his head. \u201cIt was important.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The waitress went to grab the coffee pot. When she came back, the man had his wallet out, sorting what had been inside. Business cards, credit cards, debit cards, receipts, all of them scattered over the tabletop. She silently refilled the cup and went to the counter to grab the food that was sitting there. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou know you\u2019re supposed to ring the bell,\u201d she reminded the cook impatiently. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He pointedly put his headphones back in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The waitress rolled her eyes and dropped the food off. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
His name was Martin Serling. He lived on 22 Oak Lane in Somerville, Ohio. He was an electrician. He had a family. His wife\u2019s name was Helen, his oldest son\u2019s name was Greg, and his younger son\u2019s name was Thomas. His business card read \u201cSerling Electric, For All Your Shocking Needs!\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Martin stared down at the picture in his hands. It was the four of them during Thomas\u2019s most recent trip home from college. He could see traces of gray in Helen\u2019s pitch black hair. His was already much more pronounced, the fine blonde having gone mostly grey by the time he was forty two. The class ring on Greg\u2019s hand was half hidden by the collar of Thomas\u2019s shirt. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He\u2019s nine and his mom dies in a home invasion. He spends the next five years in therapy for the nightmares. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s eighteen and he meets Helen during a mutual friend\u2019s graduation party. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s twenty seven and they\u2019ve been married for three years when she tells him she\u2019s pregnant with their first child.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s still twenty seven when she loses the baby.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s thirty four and chasing around after Greg in the yard when a child from across the street dies in a hit-and-run. Explaining death to a five year old is hard. Even harder still is attending the funeral. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s thirty seven when Thomas is born. Greg is overprotective in the best way of his baby brother. Always worrying after every little sneeze and hiccup. The night Thomas almost dies in his crib is the day Greg tells him \u201cI\u2019m gonna be a doctor when I grow up\u201d and Martin has never been prouder. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s forty when his father dies. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s forty two when Greg comes home with a black eye after a fight at school after some bullies targeted his best friend. \u201cThey were calling him all sorts of terrible shit!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGreg, language.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019s what it was!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s days away from fifty when Thomas comes out. Nervous and shaking during Christmas break.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m gay.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI already packed and Greg said-\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat do you mean you packed?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c…\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGo unpack, you\u2019re not going anywhere.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMartin\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat? We\u2019re not. He\u2019s our son, we\u2019re not kicking him out over something as small as this. It\u2019s not like he murdered anyone!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s fifty two when his best friend dies of cancer. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s fifty six when he wins an award for patenting a new wiring technique. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s sixty when Greg finishes medical school with honors. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s sixty two when he gets the diagnosis of mesothelioma. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s sixty seven when he beats it. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s seventy three when it returns. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n He\u2019s seventy four when-<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Martin blinked and a tear fell on the photo. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m dead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes.\u201d The waitress said, gently patting his shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs this – is this all there is?\u201d He cast a glance around the empty restaurant. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s the night shift,\u201d she shrugged. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe night shift,\u201d he repeated dubiously. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThis is where those without a faith come when their time ends,\u201d she explained. \u201cYou get choices.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat choices?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou were relatively a good person. You weren\u2019t perfect but no human ever really is. You can go to an afterlife of solitary time in a house with a garden and books and music that are all just ok.\u201d She handed him a pamphlet with the words MEDIOCRITY IN A HOUSE across the top in yellow. \u201cOr you can try again. If you pick this,\u201d she tapped the pamphlet, \u201cask me for the check.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat if I want to try again?\u201d It did look appealing in a sort of calm way. An eternity of calm repose. Like doing yoga for eternity. But bad, faux Indian guru yoga, like Helen\u2019s best friend\u2019s daughter\u2019s sort of yoga. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThen go help the dishwasher in the back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He glanced up at her. The waitress was warmly lit in a strange way. Deep red-brown skin, oak brown eyes, and her hair tied in dozens of braids that were pulled back into a low ponytail. Over her shoulder, he could see the cook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat\u2019s his afterlife?\u201d He asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot an option for you,\u201d she said. Martin decided that that was probably something he didn\u2019t want to know, based on her tone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n How long do I have to decide?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cUntil the night shift ends.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Greg glanced outside. He must have been there for hours but it was still the same inky black. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDo you want anything more to eat?\u201d The waitress asked. \u201cMore coffee?\u201d She held up the pot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Martin shook his head. She nodded and left him alone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Martin read the pamphlet twice. The clock on the wall never changed. He drank another cup of coffee, and, remembering Helen\u2019s lectures on his cholesterol, had a bowl of fruit. He couldn\u2019t really say if they had any taste. If any of it had any taste. <\/p>\n\n\n\n With a final glance outside, he picked up his empty mug and bowl and headed into the kitchen. The cook barely glanced at him except to point at the sink full of bubbles, where the dishwasher of indeterminate gender, age, and ethnicity stood. Their head was bowed, hair tucked up under a baseball hat, arms plunged in the sink. A heavy duty apron was tied tightly to keep the water from soaking them. <\/p>\n\n\n\n They silently pointed at a second apron on a hook. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Martin set the two dishes down and put it on. The dishwasher shuffled slightly to make room. Martin rolled up his sleeves and began to wash dishes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The clock on the wall changed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The night shift was coming to an end.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It was around ten after Life when he came in. Nightshift was the best shift, to the three that worked at the diner at The End. It let the dishwasher have a break when their feet started to hurt. It let the cook wear headphones while he worked. And it let the waitress […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[238],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mudassirbackup.infinitycodestudio.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/204"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mudassirbackup.infinitycodestudio.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mudassirbackup.infinitycodestudio.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mudassirbackup.infinitycodestudio.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mudassirbackup.infinitycodestudio.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=204"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/mudassirbackup.infinitycodestudio.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/204\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mudassirbackup.infinitycodestudio.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=204"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mudassirbackup.infinitycodestudio.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=204"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mudassirbackup.infinitycodestudio.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=204"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}