The rush was still there, the customers too, but the tips had withered to scraps. Now he worked twice as hard for half as much. The job hadn’t changed—he had. His parents never said it out loud, but he could feel their doubt growing.
Every time he passed his mom in the hallway, she’d offer a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. His dad asked fewer and fewer questions about work. At first, they were supportive, proud even. But now, their silence was thick with worry.
Andrew could feel their judgment humming under the floorboards of that cold, cramped basement room he still called home. Still, he didn’t quit. He couldn’t. There was nowhere else to go. He wiped his hands on a towel and glanced at the laminated specials board—same soup of the day, same discounted combo nobody ever ordered.
The dullness made him want to scream. He wanted something to break the monotony. Anything. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped it out just enough to check the screen. It was a text on a group chat with his friends: