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Super-Earth
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2016
- Location
- Birmingham, UK.
Holly sighed, fumbling slightly, her fingers cold against the metal of her hoodie's zip as she struggled to pull it up. The air had a bit of a bite to it tonight. The youngster let out another sigh. Friday night. She could be going wild on the town. Holly smirked inwardly. More likely she could be curled up in bed. It had been a hectic week. But instead of either of those two options, the girl found herself, leaning moodily up against the side wall of the small bus stop shelter. She was dressed simply, a pair of fitted, blue jeans around her toned legs, her feet covered with a simple, slightly beaten up old pair of vans. She pushed a blonde lock that had come loose from the ponytail behind her head back behind one ear as the wind bit once again, slipping through the fleecy fabric of her hoodie, and through the simple, black t shirt she had on underneath. It was a simple look. Practical more than stunning.
Before Holly knew it, the bus was rounding the corner into the suburban street, a warren of cheap student housing surrounding it. The girl lived near by, in one of those student homes, the rent split five ways among the occupants. Without a word, Holly stepped up onto the bus, swiping her wallet, and the travel card inside it against the small reader. The girl took a seat near the middle of the bus, her scrawny frame pressing up against the window as she swung her battered, patch covered old backpack into position next to her. The bus pulled away sharply around her, and Holly fumbled in her pockets for her headphones, settling in for the bus ride to the city centre.
The sun was dipping close to the horizon by the time Holly found herself reaching for the stop button. The restaurant was just a few hundred metres down the road from the bus stop, and, with a quick smile to the driver, the youngster stepped off and into the now dark evening street. Her short, but quick strides carried her down the path, weaving amongst the crowds of hungry city dwellers. She had to cut her speed a little bit as she felt that familiar tightness in her left hamstring, right there, just above her knee. It was an old injury now, over a year since the third degree tear had left her laying on the track in agony, unable to walk. Even now, moving quickly could bring out the tightness of the scar tissue around the injury. She was definitely never going to hurdle competitively again, not with her lead leg so locked up. Before she knew it, she found herself on autopilot, cutting down a narrow alley way for a few metres to access the rear, staff entrance of the mid sized restaurant.
"Evening Holly!" Came the chirpy call from a small office, it's door propped open a few metres down the corridor from the one that Holy was currently pushing open with her shoulder, her hands buried in her pockets. She shot a slight glare towards the door. It seemed like Bridget was always cheerful, sometimes annoyingly so. She was the owner of the place. It had once been a little family run joint, but those days were long gone. Bridget was the only one left. She didn't reply to the greeting, feeling just about the opposite to what his chirpy tones had implied. There were a lot of places Holly wanted to be right now, but work wasn't one of them.
Without a word, Holly headed down the corridor. At the end was a door that came out behind the bar at the front of the restaurant proper, to the left a door that left into the slightly mangy old staff room, and to the right, a set of double, swinging doors, one of two sets that led into the kitchen, the other being from the restaurant floor. The girl shrugged off her hoodie, leaning around the door of the staff room and slinging into onto a small hook, grabbing the apron from the hook beside it in one smooth movement. On autopilot, the girl wrapped the small, black apron around her waist, her shoulders contorting slightly as she reached behind her back to tie it in place. The pouch on the front was full of all sorts of pieces of assorted crap that she'd gathered during her time here. Pencils, notebooks, and other nick nacks. Taking one last deep breath, Holly stepped out onto the main floor of the restaurant.
The youngster made a beeline through the busy room to the nearest computer station, swiping a little plastic card that was fastened to her apron on a self retracting string. A digital map of the floor popped up, table's colour coded by their status. There was a two seater near the front that hadn't had orders taken. Holly flashed a smile to a coworker coming the other way with an arm full of plates as she headed for the table. Instinct took over, and she put on that slightly fake, corporate smile that she forced onto her face when dealing with customers. It was going to be a long night
Before Holly knew it, the bus was rounding the corner into the suburban street, a warren of cheap student housing surrounding it. The girl lived near by, in one of those student homes, the rent split five ways among the occupants. Without a word, Holly stepped up onto the bus, swiping her wallet, and the travel card inside it against the small reader. The girl took a seat near the middle of the bus, her scrawny frame pressing up against the window as she swung her battered, patch covered old backpack into position next to her. The bus pulled away sharply around her, and Holly fumbled in her pockets for her headphones, settling in for the bus ride to the city centre.
The sun was dipping close to the horizon by the time Holly found herself reaching for the stop button. The restaurant was just a few hundred metres down the road from the bus stop, and, with a quick smile to the driver, the youngster stepped off and into the now dark evening street. Her short, but quick strides carried her down the path, weaving amongst the crowds of hungry city dwellers. She had to cut her speed a little bit as she felt that familiar tightness in her left hamstring, right there, just above her knee. It was an old injury now, over a year since the third degree tear had left her laying on the track in agony, unable to walk. Even now, moving quickly could bring out the tightness of the scar tissue around the injury. She was definitely never going to hurdle competitively again, not with her lead leg so locked up. Before she knew it, she found herself on autopilot, cutting down a narrow alley way for a few metres to access the rear, staff entrance of the mid sized restaurant.
"Evening Holly!" Came the chirpy call from a small office, it's door propped open a few metres down the corridor from the one that Holy was currently pushing open with her shoulder, her hands buried in her pockets. She shot a slight glare towards the door. It seemed like Bridget was always cheerful, sometimes annoyingly so. She was the owner of the place. It had once been a little family run joint, but those days were long gone. Bridget was the only one left. She didn't reply to the greeting, feeling just about the opposite to what his chirpy tones had implied. There were a lot of places Holly wanted to be right now, but work wasn't one of them.
Without a word, Holly headed down the corridor. At the end was a door that came out behind the bar at the front of the restaurant proper, to the left a door that left into the slightly mangy old staff room, and to the right, a set of double, swinging doors, one of two sets that led into the kitchen, the other being from the restaurant floor. The girl shrugged off her hoodie, leaning around the door of the staff room and slinging into onto a small hook, grabbing the apron from the hook beside it in one smooth movement. On autopilot, the girl wrapped the small, black apron around her waist, her shoulders contorting slightly as she reached behind her back to tie it in place. The pouch on the front was full of all sorts of pieces of assorted crap that she'd gathered during her time here. Pencils, notebooks, and other nick nacks. Taking one last deep breath, Holly stepped out onto the main floor of the restaurant.
The youngster made a beeline through the busy room to the nearest computer station, swiping a little plastic card that was fastened to her apron on a self retracting string. A digital map of the floor popped up, table's colour coded by their status. There was a two seater near the front that hadn't had orders taken. Holly flashed a smile to a coworker coming the other way with an arm full of plates as she headed for the table. Instinct took over, and she put on that slightly fake, corporate smile that she forced onto her face when dealing with customers. It was going to be a long night