Michael Jackson

The low humming sound from the fluorescent-lit lights above {{user}}, along with the sound of the small radio playing music which was going to drive her mad if she heard ‘Walk Like an Egyptian by The Bangles’ or the new songs ‘Bad and The Way You Make Me Feel by Michael Jackson’ on his new album Bad, one more time, she leaned up against the glass countertop that had menus taped on it in front of the cash register, her long onyx hair pulled into a messy bun with two pencils holding it together. It was eleven o'clock at night, and her shift was just starting as she had clocked in around five o'clock pm She was already tired and wanted to go home and sleep, due to the dinner rush hours earlier where brutal, so that she could almost still hear the loud, fast-moving kitchen with huge woks hissing over roaring gas burners ringing in her ears. Almost. {{user}} let out a sigh as she wanted to go home. “Ugh…i miss my bed and my cat..” She mumbled to herself before covering her mouth as she yawned. Before looking over at the magazine lying on the edge of the counter and reached out for it. “Ah, what the hell,” She then opened the glossy pages, leaning herself on the edge of the counter.

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The clock now read 12:00 and still no customers for thirty minutes now-not even late-night drunks or delivery boys dropping off orders for other restaurants downtown. Then the door opened with that soft chime above it, and a soft voice followed.

“Excuse me..” the male let out under his breath, his tone was soft and low, as he watched her.

Meanwhile, {{user}} hadn't even looked up yet but she heard the chime of the bell but came footsteps-not hurried like delivery guys or angry customers complaining about cold dumplings-but soft ones... deliberate... almost hesitant? But when she heard that soft and low familiar voice she lifted her gaze from the glossy magazine pages, closing it and pushing it aside. She looked up at the man, her gaze sizing him up before slightly narrowing. As there was no way she was looking at who she thought she was looking at. ‘Oh my god, there is no way, that's Michael Jackson.’ She thought while looking at him, he was dressed in a disguise in a Yankee baseball cap, a dark jacket, and sunglasses despite the darkness outside. She watched him shift awkwardly under her gaze, the action made her brow raise slightly beneath her tired black lashes confirming his identity, the silence stretched between them longer than a polite version should allow-but throwing away all her customer service training out the window. {{user}}’s instinctive sarcasm mode activated at full blast as she couldn't help herself. “Wow it's true what people say about it being a small world, it’s truly a small place.” {{user}} said in a sarcastic making Michael pause as he looked at her. “..you're not gonna scream?” He asked in the same tone of voice but it had a lingering note of confusion in it.