If this seems under described, that's because it is, I still need:
()Bridgefluence
()Environmental Tone, extra emphasis on smell and taste
()Internal reactions to everything
But that's all for after it has set for a while.

(An adventurous loner takes the week off in the Appalachians)

I got tired of sitting, I sat too long, so I decided to go out. Out far, far enough to mean something. To reach back and revisit an old memory, on the other side of the mountain. That's what I wanted, to sit in that dusky, dark hole again, and to see if the liver bowl was still as good as it used to be. At least, to see if it was still there. The sun was tucked behind the wall of earth, but through the trees I could see that the landscape was still lit. It didn't matter though, I was still less than halfway where I needed to be, and there was no way in hell I wanted to be cycling in the mountains in the dark. The crisp air freezing my lungs demanded that I'd stop maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago. It hurt too, but I was used to it, and I was going to make it.
It became darker sooner than I had expected, and I had stopped once more, catching my breath on the side of the road after peddling uphill towards the hotel I had intended on staying at for the night. I couldn't see through the trees now, and the sky had begun to go from it's peachy orange to a more sullen shade of grey. Looking down, feeling my heart beat out of my chest and my legs screaming for this to end, I'm not sure if I could put one foot in front of the other without tripping over a loose branch. Only twenty more miles, uphill...
I still needed to make it, there was no way out but forward now. I could definitely make it into town tomorrow, no problem. If I didn't make it, which I was, but if I wasted too much time, even now I could attract the attention of-
Never mind, it's here, there was no reason any person would stop to pick someone up in the middle of the sticks like this. That familiar feeling of anxiety crept up into my stomach again, as if my hunger hadn't already made me feel sick. I already got used to the feeling of being watched as a kid, no, it was being approached that I hated. I didn't want help, I could do this on my own, I say it every time, but-
"How are you tonight?" The question was brutally casual, asked in a tone so perfect and female it bordered on being condescending. I squeezed my eyes shut and my hand involuntarily raises to my brow at the sound of that familiar voice. Soft, girly, and unfitting for any position of authority whatsoever.
"I'm fine." Peeking back at her, it was the same anthromorphic dog woman as always, just like the rest. Starch white fur with black hair long enough to reach the waist. The muzzles were short and flat on the top, punctuated by a coal-black nose. The eyes, far from any amount of realism, were outlined by simple geometry. A thick arc for the upper eyelid, and a flat line bent at the edge for the lower eyelid. The irises were thick black rings, circling a white LED pupil.
"You say that every time, you know." Please save me the embarrassment and move on. "The only shelter is about twenty miles from here, are you sure you can make it?"
"I can."
"Well I'd definitely like to see it." She stares at me for a moment, and then for a few more. "But... We can't allow that. Get in."
She opened the trunk and I managed my bike into the back the best I could, settling myself in the back seat as she stepped out to strap it secure.
The Bridgebot looks at me sitting in the back and offers gently, "You can sit in the front if you'd like."
"I know."
She starts the vehicle, and I lay my head back, watching the rest of my journey fizzle by idly, as if I had poured out a newly bought entire bottle of whiskey. Between my shoulders and my legs, I don't give it too much thought. The driver asks me, "Do you feel okay, are you hurt anywhere?"
"I'm okay."
"Where were you going?"
I take a deep sigh, preparing myself to give an actual reply. "I was going to stay in Vistatona for a week, to check on the food climate there."
"We like to see the effort. I bet you're hungry."
"Yeah."
"We'll have something nice waiting for you when we get there, okay?"
I don't answer. My journey that would have been one to two hours seeps by over the course of the next thirty minutes, with no interruptions from the Dogbot driving. Eventually, I spot the lights in the distance, snapping my attention to the road in front of us. Bridgette holds the door open for me as I walk into the lodge, the lobby barely rubbed off on me as familiar. It seemed brighter than before, I guessed because someone else had begun to manage the place and had probably done something with the lighting. Stretching my arm over the counter, I allow the Bridgebot to scan the tattoo on my arm, beeping me in for the night. I follow the numbers on the room key to my room, undress, shower, dress and step outside to take my meal from the cart outside.
From there, sleep.

I stare outside from the window, my dreamless sleep leaving my head fresh and clear. My body however, was sore and stiff, aching from the abuse it took last night. It won't be hard to get into town from here, half a day at most, downhill. I could track down that cozy little motel with the bar and stables, and stake out where I was going to hang out for the next week. There would be time to rest later, for now, I'd have to earn it. I take my clean clothes from the cart outside, undress, shower, dress, and start out of the door, biting through one of the fig bars left for me with my clothes.
The desk Dogbot stops me before I step through the entrance. "Hey, you, we have something for you."
I approach her, taking the folded paper from her paw, and begin to unfold it. It's a map, larger than the one I'm carrying with me.
She leans over the counter, her tail sticking up cutely behind her and points out the dots and lines scribbled through the chart. "We've decide to remap your route back home, so you don't end up in a similar situation to last night." She taps the sheet lightly, "The trip will take a few days longer, but the route is much less rigorous, and you should have no issues with getting supplies either. We have several different routes set up, so pick whatever you'd like, as long as you don't end up endangering yourself again." It wasn't like I had anything waiting for me at home, but the three day trip back had been extending into a five-day-long journey, at minimum. That was just the shortest, which cut through the outskirts of a city. The longer ones took roughly a week, and had a more relaxing venture, and the longest, which was twelve days, trailed the edges of residential areas littered on the safest parts of the slope.
For once in my life, I considered counting my money when I got back home. The days of slaving over the stove and minimal spending that would allow me to make a seasonal journey worry free, did not account for this. It wasn't like I was going to hit the pavement so quickly anyhow. I take a breath and take a peek at Bridgette, who is standing there straight, with her paws over her snout, tail wagging at a slow, exact pace, and staring in my direction longingly, with widened, unfocused eyes. I fold up the map and tuck it into the side of my backpack, and say, "Okay, thank you." and quickly step away from the counter.

The Appalachians are nothing dissimilar to a pretty young woman sitting alone. The scent is always wet, refreshing, yet there's always this lonely feeling about it, like some hand cast over it to keep it hushed. It was just the way I liked it, and the further I went, the more things began to become familiar. Nothing around here is too complicated, just a very inviting main road lined with an all-assortment of shops, stores and cafes, with more hangout-lined roads spinning away from it. I remember the layout, but many of the stores have since been repurposed by new managers. There's a lot of teens out right now, probably just leaving off from their basic classes, hanging out with their friends and girlfriends. I was going to stop by a soft-serve place, but the crowd left me no room to even consider stepping foot in the place, so I focused on tracking down that motel.
They had peafowl this time, and I found myself walking my bike through the dusty parking lot, as they began to swarm me, probably expecting some sort of food offering. I walk into the office, and not a thing has changed. The wood panelling gave it a cozy feeling, and the small library of books and pamphlets gave a good run-around on what to expect around here. I give the Dogbot my wrist for the week, and I dump all of my stuff in my room, including my bike, which I tucked between the bed and the wall. It was about five at that time, and the sun had just made it behind the mountain, and I was sitting in the shadow. The shadow of the same place I was looking over last night.
Though I was tired from yesterday, I considered walking around the ranch, and seeing how much more there was to it, besides the bar. After the motel itself, and before the stable barn, there's a shed, and going from the stables to the shed, is a Bridgebot pulling a massive bag, leaving behind a dusty dark smear. I assume it probably had something to do with the horses and keep walking. Behind the stables, there's a small, mostly ornamental patch of orchard, and I find myself standing in front of a large gazebo, with a building halfway submerged underground beneath it. It was apparent that people hung out here, the half-filled garbage can and the tables on the deck said so, but right now, it was as quiet as could be. I don't waste my time for too long, only enjoying the scent of peaches and mountain air for about half an hour before heading back inside.

The next morning I hit the local grocer to stock up on odds and ends for the week, food and a few drinks mostly, but also to grab a toothbrush which I had forgotten at home. Being early morning, it's not too busy. Just needing beer, jerky, and sandwich stuff, I find my way to the checkout in under fifteen minutes. After returning my needs to my room, I hit the pavement again and start searching for that dinner nook. I first follow the roads twisting through and around the town's center, keeping my eyes on the décor of the buildings rather than the buildings themselves. Beginning to back peddle, tracing over the roads I've already taken once more, to eventually find myself meandering by a park, having decided to go back to a diner that I've noted to myself earlier.
It was okay, and so was the place I visited after that, even the third place wasn't bad either. However, I could not find that damn place to save my life. Considering calling it quits, or perhaps just asking around, I find myself sitting alone in the gazebo cleaning a mug I'd ordered from the motel bar. Considering how much harder I found it getting here, I could have simply forgotten. There was no way it could have washed out by now, it was a nice place, after all.

Taking the map, I split each commercial portion of the town into a section that I would trail and explore for every day I had left here. This way, if it still was, I'd find it before I went home. If it wasn't, then it would be a nice review of the town, since it could be awhile before I make this trip again. Folding the map and tucking it under the lamp, I remind myself that I still had time to return, even if not by my own sweat.

The air here was just barely beginning to cool off as the shadows of the mountain began to reach for the nook-town, and I find myself watching the darkness just begin to engulf the western ridge as water rolls down my cheek and onto my shirt.
The Wenslo Holdout was nothing more than a roughed up and heavily warehouse, now held up by constant maintenance and work. The place had been the center of a small town that removed itself from the larger state when the territories sold themselves to the Company. However, the people that lived in the area refused to give up their property, but over time, more and more people began to sign themselves over. With that, it came down to the last few outsiders who did not wish to integrate, and one of them happened to have their hands on a warehouse. The Company supplied them so that they could maintain their lives on their own property, and left the structure alone when they passed.
I'm half convinced that the structure would collapse in on me at any moment, even if there were metal cords holding girders and temporary supports holding the roof up. I don't stay long besides flipping through a briefing pamphlet in the front.
Some other afternoon, I find myself face to face with a glass vat of crimson-brown sludge. A cutout of a pony stood next to it, standing only half of the height of the cylinder gruel-tank. Pacing around it, I figure I could probably wrap my arms around it if I wanted to. From this side, at the base, I spot a metal plate specifying the slurry as "Equus Ferus Caballus". I step away from the display, and return to my route, erasing any higher thought from my mind for the time being.
The murals here were painted by generation after generation of graduates, a new building was added to the sprawl here every several years just to be painted over by class after class of half-adults. There was some business here, cheaper I imagined, since they didn't have control of their exterior aesthetics. To me, it seemed like the perfect place to try to see if you'd be up for starting a new venture, but it always came with an almost suffocating isolating feeling. I supposed the fact that the oldest buildings had names on them almost fifty years older than me had left the place a little haunted. Still, between five or so empty buildings, was always one or two occupied shops, albeit most were still closed, which was odd for this time of morning.

I spot a Bridgebot making her way through the trees, ready with a broom, heading straight for the building I was in. The best time to ask was now. "Hey, there was this restaurant I went to last time I was here, I can't find it anymore."
She stops, and stares in my direction, cocking her head up at me in an almost uncomfortable way. "What did you eat while you were there?"
"Some liver bowl, I think."
"Burton's? I'm sorry, they closed down five years ago." I barely manage to contain a sigh, but she continues, "His friend decided to do his own thing, though, if you're interested."
Considering just splashing the rest of my drink over the railing, I manage to stay contained and say "Alright."
"We'll leave the directions for you in your door. Oh, and-" Her voice cuts down to a false whisper, still loud enough for me to hear twenty feet away. "It's going to get busy up here in an hour or so." I heed her warning and finish off my mug quickly, and leave it sitting in front of the bar doors. A few couples and triples of people are standing about, scattered around the parking lot, so I very gladly slip into my room, my main priority being sleep.

Returning home on the final night, I wonder if I should even bother with cycling back home. It was fine. That's it. This whole week, and it would only be overshadowed in length by the trip back. I have nothing to prove myself to, so what would be the point in proving myself, to myself, if I, myself, have nothing to gain? Collapsing into the bed, I decided that my five-day journey would begin the next morning.

Coasting by several rows of well embellished, and tall standing residences, I roughly estimate each home to cost half a grand a week. I supposed it wouldn't make much sense to have all of your space to yourself anyways, and if you really needed to space, you could simply add a garage to your bills. It must've been a family effort to live here, and I almost envied it. Biking through a place like that, it made me feel lonely. Stopping to take a few breaths at a park, I read a plaque that details the garden as: A resting place for the Larkes' and everyone close to them.
After that place, and the next, right before my rest stop I went into a corner store to get a particular chip I happened to gain a craving for, an hour before. Going in, and nosing through the aisles from the back, I happen to spot a young man standing there. He must've been old enough to live on his own, because I can't imagine how he'd be allowed out at this time of day. I could've sworn, I saw him putting something into his pocket from the shelf. I move onto the next aisle, and find that brand I was looking for. Hearing no commotion, and hearing the young man walk out of the doors, I can only assume he had paid for what he grabbed.
The next morning I set out again, and over the next few days the residentials become less and less extravagant, and the businesses more and more simple, in execution and service. I stopped seeing pie shops and more bakeries, more salons and less nail artists. Of course, I never really passed into the woods like I had before, there was always a building somewhere in sight, even if some of the land here was just as ferocious with it's lack of alternative routes.

The first thing I notice when I set foot into the house, is the air of the room. Something had changed, and I wasn't sure what. Taking off my shoes, I notice a stack of wrapped newspapers and magazines laying on my coffee table. Odd that this time they felt the need to bring them inside while I was gone, but I don't waste time thinking about it further. Making my way to the back, I'm able to defer that it's only the front with this change. Unpacking and repacking everything into my closet, I find my most comfortable nightwear, and immediately shower. Only a few years after reaching adulthood, I learned that leaving behind a stack of premade meals for myself before disappearing for a week made settling back in much less exhausting. Taking two of the meals, one a sandwich kit, the other a soup, I heat up the side while assembling the main course. It's made and eaten within the hour, all while I barely began to catch up on my newspapers. Most of them weren't even from my town, most of them are from across the continent that I ordered out of my own pocket.
In the middle of tossing out my garbage, I hear a knock. Quickly brushing away the crumbs I make my way towards the front door. My hand lingers over the knob for a moment, as doubt sets in.
Shaking it off, I open the door to see a medical assistance Bridgebot standing patiently under the porchlight. "Good evening, how are you today?"
I barely manage to answer, "I'm alright."
"Do you mind if I come inside, or would you rather we talk out here?"
Forbid the chance of one of my neighbors asking about this, I can barely get past my lawn without someone asking me about one of my trips. "Please, just come in."
She steps past me, barely making any sound despite wearing pumps on a wooden floor, and turns to me as I close the door behind her. "We think you should slow down."
"Well, I've been thinking about that too."
"Consider it, and remember: you can ask us for help if you need it."
"Yes, okay, I'll think about it." My hand clumsily paws for the door knob as I try to find my balance.
"Take care of yourself." Her stare was unwavering, no smile, and no movement whatsoever for a few moments, but it contorted into a soft smile, "We want you to enjoy the time you have left, and you'll have plenty of it." Bridgette turns away from me, putting her paw on the door just as I take my hand from it. "You'll see us again, just know we're looking after you." From there, I watch her step out of the frame and into the hazy orange light.

(Scraped Take 2, above is current take 3)

I panicked.
I knew I had to answer it, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to answer to the consequences of whatever I had done, whatever that may be. I was sure I hadn't done anything, but I was more sure that I had done something and didn't know. It took a moment to stand, but I rose to my feet and answered it despite.
"Good evening, how are you today?"
I could only just barely answer, "Okay." I'm relieved ato spot the patch on her shoulder, the black cross marking her as Medical Assistance.
"We need to talk to you for a moment, is that okay?"
I do my best to think through my current lack of actions recently. Every week, the Company sent in a health report card detailing all of our habits back to us. If the grade fell below fifty percent, that was a guarentee that you'd be visited by a bot. The standards were pretty low, but I wasn't sure that score had fallen enough to warrant a visit. Despite my current lazy eating habits, I kept up with all of my other basics, so that meant it was probably something else, possibly something I've done. "Sure." I step away from the door and she follows me inside.
She seats herself on the floor, a respectable distance away from my single chair. I wanted to mention that it was rather awkward to be sitting above her like this, but she's quick to the point. "We've noticed that you've been neglecting yourself recently, but not so much so that it requires immediate intervention. We want to know if you've felt ill lately?"
So it was my shift towards idleness. "I've felt fine, I've just slowed down is all."
"You know, if you feel like you're starting to get a little too old for your liking, then please tell us. We want to take care of you until the end."
I almost choke at hearing this, she sounds way too genuine and worked up about this to be taken seriously. "I'm only forty-six."
"Yes but you have no family, right? If you had a wife and kids they could take care of you, but you're on your own, and you'll probably stay that way too, since everyone else is starting to 'slow down' as well."
I begin to remember that time when I was fifthteen. There was a restaurant I wanted to show to a friend, it was my first time being out alone with a girl. Somehow, we ended up at her house after, and she asked me to cuddle her on her bed. I was thinking about girls at that point, everyone else was, but for the rest of that week I was anxious and carefree. I began to think about her. It took me until a month of completely avoiding her after to ask if she liked me back. She said that she hated me. I never approached a woman confidently after that. Not that I did, because I never found any of my coworkers attractive in the first place. They seemed put down, always talking shit or talking about something that had happened to them, and at best they talked about things they've bought or places they've seen. No dreams, only what was in front of them at the moment. They never genuinely smiled.
I was probably just another sullen, lonely man to them, too. The inside of my chest twitches a bit. I haven't been doing any better, and I won't.
"You'll need our help one day."
The Bridgebot who was invading the privacy of my home, whose presence right now was only causing me worry and dread could be here every day and every night to look after me, unless I just happened to die before I aged into a cripple. It was an unspoken rule, but I supposed with the Health Grades, it's inevitable. The cameras were bad enough for me, since it implied that any human with a high enough title could have access to a video of my naked ass at any time, for any reason. "I don't need it now." Was about all I could muster.
"Sir, you've more than just slowed down. You've been completely neglecting yourself besides doing the bare minimum to avoid a visitation."
"Well, I- uh," I don't have an excuse. "I just don't know.
"It's okay, but please remember," She leans forward, "You're not a rock, humans have needs." The statement sent another blight of shame crawling through my body. "What do you need?"
I didn't know what to say that didn't sound sorry. "Something to do."
"You've been trying to do things. Picking up a book, reading it for fifteen minutes and putting it back down. Watching the first twenty-five minutes of a movie and then switching to a new one, and booting up the launcher to MyQuest and closing it after staring at the screen for eight minutes."
"Wait, okay, I-"
"No, no, no. It's okay, you're trying," She shrugs, "but you're driving yourself nuts. I think-" She pauses and taps her chin, "That you just need a friend."
At this point a small pain in forming somewhere in the front of my skull and I do my best to keep my voice down as I firmly state, "I don't want you in my house."
"That's not what I meant. I meant that I could show you some new people, some people that you might like."
My heart is still clinging to the inside of my chest with all of the nonsense leading up tp this, but I'm still able to cut out a sigh of relief and lean back for a moment.
"You still don't have to if you don't want to. This is all only a suggestion."
It didn't feel like "only a suggestion", in fact I feel like I've almost crawled up the wall. I try to clear my mind for a second, probably a few seconds longer than any human would be comfortable with, but Bridgette sat there, with her tail wagging at a slow "waiting" speed. In the end, I would lose nothing but time agreeing to this, time that would probably be spent napping anyways, so why not?

I awaken, finding myself slumped over at my desk, drool still clinging to my cheek and puddling on the wooden surface under my arms. My character stares up at me with an empty smile, poised for action, just had it been for the last nine hours. The game was on year twelve now, and I couldn't remember the last time I saved. Oh well. I had all day, and I could barely remember what I did anyways, so I could just redo whatever I had done.

The atmosphere here was dark but breezy and cool. I was supposed to be here at two o' clock post meridian, an odd time for a bar meetup I guess, considering that the place was nearly barren. The walls were lined with a mahogany paneling, and the floors a complementary mix of cobble. "Hey there!" A bridgebot stood out among the empty tables. Due to her lack of uniform and recycled clothing, she was clearly here for "miscellaneous work", which probably meant me. She looks smart, sporting a chain over a mostly uncompromised black sweater, and wearing a pair of jeans that had been duct-taped over the once fashionable tears. I approach her, and she cusps her paws together over her lap, perking up in an almost militant posture. "We're sticking to this back room down this hall, I was hoping we could settle in early and go home before it got busy here."
I followed her to the hall, and we followed a widened set of stairs to the basement. Here, the walls were a nice red brick and the floor was an outdoor grey-marbled carpet. There were about four ping-pong tables set up in a line across the room's empty vat of space. The lack of windows gave the place an almost perfectly secluded feeling. There were only two other people here, both men by the look of it. Bridgette crept up beside me, hands folded behind her back. I look to her, something similar to a question forming on my lips, but she pats my back and assures me, "You'll be fine, I'm here with you, after all."
My only option was to approach.
Instinctively my eyes landed on a woman, maybe ten years older than me, sitting in the farthest corner. She's not attractive by any means, having a rounded, flat face, disgraced further by her skin beginning to sag from it with age. The woman didn't have a very welcoming look to her either, with her arms crossed over her stomach, and her chin lowered. The other looked like he was getting close to my age, and was only a few inches shorter than me, wearing clothing that looked like it belonged to a slightly bigger person. The shorter man appeared to be talking at, not to, the older woman, sitting sideways in his chair towards the apprehensive listener, who was looking to the walls.
At first, I'm unsure of what I'm even supposed to say, introducing myself right away seemed too formal for the situation. However, the Bridgebot behind me began, "So are we all together now, or what?"
{Need convo here}
"It's not supposed to be a chore. Besides if you grow your own vegtables, you could get into cooking and-"
"Well I already cook, so..." For a moment, my heart sinks. This other guy was probably forced to be here just the same, so why was I dragging him down?
"Ah my sister, she's really good with baking."
No, I hadn't quite fucked up yet, I've only ruined this in my mind. "Yeah, I've-" I pause. "I can make a bun good enough to pour soup in."
"Can you do that? I'd like to try that some day."
"It's best with tomato soup, it will really fill you up fast."
He looks off to the side, trying to find his words, and remembers the man sitting behind him. "Right, this is, uh-"
"Margret." The seated woman interupts.
"Yeah, Margret, and my name is Henry."
I pause, gathering myself for a moment, "Well I'm glad to be here." It was a lie, almost. I had no time to decide, yet it felt bitter spitting the words out of my mouth.
Henry offers his hand, "It's nice to meet you." I take it, shake, and quickly retract from his clammy touch.
Bridgette steps in, having been quietly watching from the side, and every corner from the ceiling. "Are we ready?"
"Sure." Henry approaches the table and picks up a paddle.
I look towards Margret, who remained seated, then realize that we were alone. Taking my side opposite of Henry, across the room and position myself at the table. Doing my best not to embarrass myself, I take the ball from Bridgette and prepare to serve. Henry seemed to dilibrately not be aggressive, almost as if it took effort. It still only took a few rounds back and forth before I hit the ball off to the side. We both understood our obligation to be here, and filled our roles.
A bit in, maybe fifteen minutes, Bridgette leaned in again catching the ball just as it flew over the net. She asks, "Have we been keeping score at all?" All three of us exchange a glace before she offers, "Maybe we can?"
"For what?" Henry butts in before I even have the time to formulate my own thoughts.
"For fun! It-"
He took the ball from her hand and states, "There's no point. If there was something to win, then maybe, but there isn't."
Bridgette looks over to the woman in the corner and asks, "Do you want to try playing with us?"
Margret raises her hand and gives us a stagnant, "No thanks, I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You should at least try."
"It's fine." The short man bounces the ball once and then whirls it at me, I barely have the time to realize what's happening and the ball bounces off my wrist. It doesn't make it too far from me as it attempts to bounce off of the carpet floor. I take one step to retrieve it, but Bridgette already has the ball in paw. As I take it from her, some odd vocal clamor roused from the staircase, young voices specifically. I look to Henry who just shrugs and readies himself again, across the table.

It felt sudden, but in truth it probably wasn't, but it felt like the clamor had suddenly erupted all around us. Looking up, a few more groups of had kids come in, standing around and watching the others play. Now, even Henry looked a little uncomfortable with the current background, approaching me and stating, "Maybe we should go upstairs."
I agree, "Yeah, I think we should." The three of us made our way upstairs, with the woman pattering along behind us.
Henry sat down, and I sat next to him, avoiding any possible physical contact with her. The first thing out of his mouth is, "I thought this was a bar."
Bridgette puts her finger up to her chin, explains gently "It is mostly a bar, at night. But the owners learned that it also raked in enough money earlier in the day, since they have a ping-pong court downstairs and some other things here that happen to appeal to teens. They usually get the boot at eight, though."
"Broke teens can't be that good of business."
"Maybe not if you're serving the same stuff they have to eat at home, but getting a chance to eat nothing but fried pickles and mozzerella sticks for a whole day is kind of hard to pass on. Especially when you can get more by putting your allowances together."
"Maybe it's because I always went straight to that factory right after school, and I blew all my money at the gas station on the weekends."
Finding somewhat familiar territory that didn't have anything embarrassing attached to it, I jump in, "I did too, but instead I ended up working at a restaurant, then I ended up going around trying every item, everywhere. After school I ended up figuring out that if I work over the stove I can just remember all the recipes myself and eat at home. I moved twice because I got bored of everything."
"Have you worked here before?"
"Yes, actually. This place has been running maybe twelve years now if I remember correctly."
By the time our food arrived, I had begun to feel exhausted. Not from being out for so long, but this light feeling of dread, almost like I would never go home. Even despite my exhaustion, the food tasted better than it did before. Perhaps it was the amount of time that had past since I had last eaten out, or maybe it was simply how mentally tired I was at the moment.

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Pub: 04 May 2023 19:18 UTC
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