MonstrousMay 22. Silence

The other people on the bus bobbed and swayed, bumping into Millie every few seconds. It irked her but it was public transit. "What can you do?" she thought to herself and shrugged.

An old woman beside her began to doze off, her head slumping down onto Millie's shoulder. Millie sighed and closed her eyes tightly.

She remembered the soft spoken words of the lady she liked to watch before bed. "Take a deep breath in," she whispered, "hold it. Good. Now let it out. Whatever worries come to you in this moment-"

The bus took a turn sharply and slung Millie into someone else. The bus squeaked to a halt and the doors folded open. She went ahead and got off, though she was still a few blocks from the coffee shop.

As the bus pulled off, she immediately regretted it. The sounds of the city made her head vibrate. People yelling into their phones. Stores with their speakers turned up. Honks and road rage shouts from the nearby street.

Millie got to the crosswalk just as the walk sign flipped over to stop. She checked her phone, very nearly late. As soon as the walk sign switched, she hurried across. A car screeched to a halt, Millie having to jump back and slam her hands onto the hood. "Watch where you're going!" the driver screamed. The other pedestrians walked by. She continued, not having time to argue.

A line had started to form outside the coffee shop. People said passive aggressive things to her as she tried to slip by, tried to tell them she worked there. They weren't listening. Millie immediately went behind the bar.

"You're late," her boss shouted over the squeal of the milk steamer. Millie all but literally bit her tongue. She was on drink duty. She could keep her head down and just pull the shots, steam the milk, slide it down the assembly line.

The shop was so crowded no one could hear without shouting. All the voices swirled about in her head as the milk swirled about on the espresso. It felt like the noise was sitting on her chest, pressing down, watching her wanting to writhe.

Millie realized the drinks had piled up. A jam in the line. Her coworker was trying to explain to a customer that ice floated in liquids, so no, they could make it sit on the bottom. Millie started to call out names, popping on lids and handing off drinks. She got to a plain black coffee, roiling with steam.

She securely placed the lid on. She called the name. "Please be careful!" she said over the din. "This is really hot!"

"Yeah, I hope so," the customer said, snatching the cup from her hand. He squeezed it as he did, sending hot coffee spilling over the sides, onto their hands. "God Dammit!" the customer screamed. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" The store got quiet then, everyone watching. Millie's hand throbbed, the palm already turning red and tender. She bit her lower lip, trying not to cuss. "Well get me some fucking napkins," the man said.

Millie opened her mouth. The man grew silent. The other customers, her boss, the asshole that almost ran her over, the overcrowded city streets, they all ceased to be. She reached over and flicked the espresso machine off. She heard the air pass into her lungs as she took a deep breath and sighed. There, she thought, much better.