Last Shift -

There’s no big speech at the end. No slow-motion walk through the parking lot. Just the click of your locker for the last time. The turn of your name tag over in your palm. A final “see ya” that hangs in the air, because everyone knows you won’t.

Not the usual hum of the fryers, the beep of the register, or the chatter of coworkers you’ve spent more waking hours with than your own family. This time, the noise feels different. Muffled. Like you’re already half-gone. last shift

You find yourself doing the motions you’ve done a thousand times—restocking napkins, wiping down the counter, checking the back door is locked—but your hands are on autopilot. Your mind is elsewhere. Replaying the inside jokes, the meltdowns in the walk-in cooler, the regular who always ordered the same thing and asked how your day was. There’s no big speech at the end