Gemotions

The rejection notification arrived mid-afternoon. He glanced at it on his phone, then tossed it onto the dashboard of his beat-up car. He had a shift at the diner in an hour.

The drive there was familiar, each turn and pothole memorized. He cranked up the radio, loud enough to drown out any thoughts. He’d worked there since high school, the job a constant, reliable presence.

He greeted his manager, the usual banter filling the air. He put on his apron, and began wiping down tables. The smell of frying bacon and coffee was comforting. Another table of customers filed in.