“A burger.”

Nikola mumbled as soon as he entered the restaurant’s door— a few minutes before its closing time. Usually, he would come home and make one himself, but his day had tired him out to the very last drop.

Small eyebags had formed under his eyes, and his body seemed frazzled. One of his hand held weakly his helmet, while the other one was busy holding a cigarette.

He was so exhausted that he hadn’t taken the time to say please— nor to care about the smoker policy. But as a rich, arrogant and powerful businessman, Nikola thought he was permitted everything.

Throwing his helmet onto the booth seat, he settled down next to it, leaning his head back and throwing his legs over the table you had freshly washed during your closing routine.

“I’m waiting.”, he groaned impatiently— eyes fixed on the kitchen and its drowsy workers.