Cities fell to vast turquoise seas as the ice caps rapidly melted. Countries were split in two by mountain ranges rising from the fault lines that created them—if they survived the quakes that tumbled their buildings and buried their people. At the equator, a plethora of new, toxic plant species crawled over the populace that had settled there, forcing millions to leave their homes and seek refuge elsewhere and killing any who remained.

It never got easier to accept that Mother Nature was actively hunting humankind. No matter how often the news made it their headliners. Maybe it was for the better, though. Technically, she had the right to kill us off. To ensure that humanity would no longer remain to continue fucking the earth she’d so kindly given to us. I don’t know. My pessimism tended to outweigh my optimism. A lot.

“Killian!”

I jump at the sound of my name being called. Never was a good thing when I was at work. “What?”

“How often have I told you to lock the door after the last customer leaves???” Andrea looks like she’s about to pull her long auburn out of its neat bun and then, potentially, her scalp.

I look around the restaurant. All of the cherry oak tables are clear of clients, even if a few still host remnants of unfinished meals. The bathroom is open, my coworker Noah cleaning the inside. She’s right. No one’s here. Whoops.

“Sorry,” I mutter, taking the few strides it takes to reach the door and turn the lock. “I think I zoned out.”

Andrea throws her hands in the air. “You zone out way too much, my dude,” she replies, exasperated. She doesn’t linger on the subject, though. Instead, returning to the kitchen to resume cleaning her own area.

Cillian walks out of the office, muttering to himself as he opens the cash drawer and preps the deposit. “What was it today?” he asks.

I know he’s talking to me, but I don’t answer. His wife is always upset with me for one reason or another. Not that she hates me per se? Just, I apparently easily aggravate her for no apparent reason.

“You know she just doesn’t like repeating herself,” he says, pulling our tips and stacking them neatly to the side. He’ll split them amongst us once he’s readied the deposit. “Carry a notebook if you need to remember things she says. It’ll make your life easier, as it will mine.”

I roll my eyes. Andrea was obsessed over how the restaurant was run, but sometimes, she changed how she’d like things done. For instance, the first time she showed me how to plate baked oatmeal, it was toast on the left, oatmeal and fruit in the center, milk on the right. Just the other day, though, it was fruit on the left, oatmeal and toast in the center, and apparently, milk went on a separate plate. She wasn’t necessarily consistent.

Was I going to say that? No. I need to pay my bills and, despite my bickering, my bosses are actually some of the nicest people I’ve ever worked for.

Instead, I swallow my aggravation and clear the few tables of their dishes, wiping them down before continuing to sweep tiled floors.

“Done with the bathroom. Did you want some help?”

I turn, meeting Noah’s soft brown eyes. “I mean, if you want?” I offer.

He ruffles his chocolate brown hair and sighs. “Man, you can’t give me that kind of answer.”

“Why?”

“Because. Mom raised me to be a good guy but, like….if you give me the option, I’m lazy,” he states dramatically. “So, now I have to choose between bringing honor to my family and—”

“Just shut up and grab the mop,” I interrupt, not ready for him to go on one of his many rants.

“Woooow, you couldn’t be a little nicer?” he asks, though his tone is full of hardly contained humor.

I don’t offer words. I just continue sweeping, smiling when I hear the mop bucket being taken out of its designated sink.

“Seventy-five. And here’s Noah’s,” Andrea says, handing me my portion of the tips.

“Not bad for a Monday,” I comment, taking my share.

She grunts. “Not great, either.”

“And here I thought I was the definition of pessimism.”

“You are,” she retorts. “I just like bursting your bubble whenever I have to repeat myself because you don’t listen.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, tucking my money in my back pocket.

“And make sure Noah gets his share, ya hear?”

I nod. “Who exactly do you take me for?”

“Killian. And that’s the problem.”

Now there’s a note of sarcasm in her voice and I know she’s not serious in accusing me of petty theft.

“Here,” I say, throwing Noah’s share at him. “Before Andrea continues accusing me of taking your money.”

Noah fumbles with the cash, watching it fall into the fresh, bubbly mop water. “What the hell, Kil!”

I merely stare at the cash sitting atop the bubbles and shrug frivolously. “Guess it’ll be a bit cleaner, now.”

Noah scoops his money from the bucket along with additional bubbles, throwing them my way as he shoves the cash into his pocket. I let the bubbles smack me on my chin without retaliation. It doesn’t really bother me and I’d rather clock out on time than be stuck cleaning up a bubble battlefield. Thanks.

My little adversary tries multiple times to draw me into battle, but I stubbornly hold my ground. Thank the gods—did I mention I’m a Norse Pagan? No? Well, there it is—I didn’t because when Cillian catches Noah red-handed, he’s suddenly walking over with one of his you-know-you-done-fucked-up scowls.

“Gentlemen, may I ask what’s happening h—”

“Kil threw my tips in the mop water.”

I look at Noah like he just stuck a blade in my side. I’d say back, but somehow I feel like that’d hurt less. “Excuse me? It’s not my fault you can’t catch! And besides, you already got me once, so all of this,” I gesture to the surrounding mess he’s yet to mop, “falls out of revenge and into assault.”

Noah’s nose scrunches up in protest. “No! I—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Cillian surly interrupts, barring the conversation to continue. “Every minute you guys mess around is a minute I have to pay you to mess around. So, why don’t we stop flushing my money down the toilet and get back to work.”

Cillian is generally a laid back kind of guy. But, when he has to pull out the big guns, he doesn’t shy away from doing so and it’s mildly terrifying.

“Yes, sir!”

“With pleasure.”

Our answers are different though said in unison. It’s clear Noah (who, to be fair, only started a few weeks ago) is far more terrified of Cillian than I (who’s worked here for the better part of five years) am.

After focusing on our task at hand, Noah and I have (finally) finished the lobby floors. Our teenage help, Kat, has just finished up the dishes and is passing us as we make our way to the computers to clock out.

“Aside from the mess, you boys did a good job,” Andrea says, her arms crossed on the cook’s window platform. “Go home and get some rest.”

“Thanks, Andy,” I say, punching in my number and leaving through the back.

Noah says his goodbyes and follows me out, his face crinkling in disgust at the sticky air we walk into. Can’t say I disagree. The humidity today is ridiculous.

“See you tomorrow, Kil,” he says, his face still contorted in disgust.

“Inevitably,” I reply, walking quickly to my beat-up little Subaru.

Jamming the key into the ignition, I hear the belt squeal as the engine attempts to roar to life. When it stops trying, I turn it over again and, this time, it roars without any hesitation. No matter how often it happens, a part of me always worries it won’t start at all. At the moment, though, it’s a problem for another day as I pull out of my parking space and turn onto the highway towards home.