@ezrawalsh
always eat before the cooks go home. c’mon! like she hasn’t been running that place long enough to have it figured out. but birdy (as she so often does) gets herself all swept up in the jobs that must be done. and who could blame her? the list never ends. but before she knows it: it’s coming up on 3am and she’s locking the doors to go home. starving! well, fuck. it’s a rare and brilliant day that you’ll find birdy in the kitchen, and it certainly won’t be at this time of night. so rather, and without giving it much second thought, she swings her old pick-up trunk into the connivence store parking lot. no big deal... right? birdy doesn’t bother locking her car door (by all means, let someone else try and get that piece of shit running), enveloped by the unsightly fluorescents before she even gets in the place. birdy doesn’t bother with pleasantries, instead b-lining towards any semblance of hot food. it’s a cold night. she decides upon some sort of sad looking sandwich, snagging a cold drink from the fridge before making her way up to the till. and still, birdy doesn’t look up (blame it on the hanger); not until after she dumps the items on the counter between them. “ and a packet of----- ezra?! ” big red, she means to say. but ezra comes out first.
