Katie and I switched shifts at the booth, her working the night, and me working the day.
She comes home at the end of her shift, it’s late, but we stay up chatting at the kitchen table for a bit because we haven’t had a lot of time to hang out for the past few weeks, so we take it where we can get it.
When it’s finally time to start getting for bed, I stand up, and every muscle protests it’s weariness, and I groan quietly.
“Oh yeah,” Katie says, “working the day is way harder than working the night shift."
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