Countdown

I sit down at the table in the break room with a heavy sigh, take off my mask, and rub my face with both hands.

No one is looking at me, but I'm suddenly self-conscious - I don't want anyone to think I'm acting tired. 

I am tired, of course - exhausted, run down, burnt - but I don't want people to think it's some kind of performance or something.

I stir my pasta with veggies, open up my phone to Twitter, take a deep breath, and start counting the moments until I go back on the selling floor.