Just as she was about to leave, Cass watched him get on his knees and place his hands on his lap, one over the other.
"Anything you tell me to, Cassandra." He followed her every movement, his eyes jumping around her face, looking for any sign of wha...
TW: heavy discussions of anxiety, incl. but not limited to anxiety attacks
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
Ent stood behind the bar, his eyes betraying a subtle hint of exhaustion. The playful smirk that often lit up his face was replaced by a furrowed brow, a visible sign of the stress weighing him down.
His fingers moved with practiced precision, pouring drinks and handling payments, but there was a slight tremor to his movements.
The bar buzzed with activity as customers chatted and laughter filled the air. Ent's attention was pulled in multiple directions, and he struggled to keep up with the demands of the bustling establishment.
It seemed as if every customer had a request or complaint, making the weight on his shoulders feel like an anchor dragging him down. His arms felt heavy as he moved about, taking increasing effort to keep up the work.
A call with Mark, his accountant, was heavy on his mind. Late summer was usually the busiest time of year, with the bar booked out nearly every night. But even with that, he made much less than last year.
With prices of goods having gone up since winter, he'd hoped to be able to catch up during this season but he was barely meeting the bottom line as it was. The profit was by no means compensating for working in the red for the first half of the year.
At this pace, he'd need to let some staff go unless he wanted to be forced to take out a loan from the bank and become indebted to them.
He looked around himself, seeing Lukas tending the other side of the bar, handing out drinks. The guy was in his mid-thirties and very knowledgeable about all things mixology. He had a friendly demeanor when handling customers, making them comfortable and answering however many questions they had.
On his other side, he saw Anna and Jan. He'd hired them 4 months ago to help serve customers. They had a kid together and lived in the building above the bar. They'd requested to be scheduled for shifts together because that had been the only way they could afford to pay a babysitter. Lisa, their daughter, was a sweetheart, who managed to melt the heart of everyone, even Ent, who hated children with a burning passion.
How in all that is holy would Ent decide who has to go? How could he decide who gets to share the wonderful news of being newly unemployed in this economic situation?
A bead of cold sweat rolled down his neck.
Despite the mounting pressure, he attempted to hide the stress in front of the customers with a chatty demeanor. Playful banter and sarcastic remarks became his shield, deflecting attention from the overwhelming thoughts flying around his head.
He engaged with those ordering drinks, effortlessly preparing what they asked for and keeping up with the rapid flow of orders, all while fighting the constant surge of anxiety that threatened to consume him.
Amidst the chaos, Ent's phone buzzed incessantly in his pocket, a relentless stream of notifications demanding his attention. With each vibration, his shoulders tensed, and a flicker of frustration crossed his face.
