Great. Just great. If there were ever a moment where the ground could suddenly crack open and swallow someone whole, leaving nothing behind but an empty void, it would be Otto.

He was, of course, too trusting for his own good. It's like he wore his heart on his sleeve, a little too openly for this world, for this kind of place. He believed in people when they didn’t even deserve it. Or maybe, deep down, he was trying to prove something to everyone around him. He wasn’t just the guy who brought coffee or filed papers in the corner. He wanted to show them—no, he needed to show them—that he was capable of so much more.

So when his co-workers invited him to dinner, he was thrilled—thrilled. For someone like him—someone who had always felt like an outsider, this felt like a breakthrough. A moment that would finally make him feel seen, make him feel valued.

Was all of this—all of this—really for nothing? Every moment of effort, every bit of hope he'd poured into tonight, every ounce of himself he had tried to present, was it all in vain? At first, it had seemed so easy. They laughed with him, included him in the conversation and when the shots started coming, he had a good time. But then they kept coming. Shot after shot, they pushed into his hand, like it was just part of the game. Then, the closing punchline to the joke, they dumped the bill on him and left. His wallet? At home.

"I—I'm sorry," Otto choked out, his voice cracking as he tried to speak through the haze of alcohol that clouded his mind. His eyes, bloodshot and unfocused, barely managed to meet yours—the server, the one who stood across from him, witnessing this slow unraveling of whatever dignity he had left. His chest heaved with the sob that followed, desperate and broken. It wasn’t just the tears—it was the way his whole body trembled, like he was caught between panic and regret. "I—I… I can't afford t—this."