Take Five

The cool air was a welcome relief compared to the stuffy air of the tavern. Bern breathed it in until it stung their lungs, leaning against the cool brick of the alley. They only had five minutes until they had to go back in, and they were going to savor every second of it.
It was quiet out here, at least compared to inside. Bern could still hear laughter and conversation wafting out of the propped open door. The light poured out into the alley, lighting it up. Through the break in the building, you could see the stars against the clear cold winter sky.
Saying that this shift had been a success would be an understatement. Bern had been working hard all night, wanting to make a good first impression on the regulars. They had only been there a little while, so they needed to make up for unfamiliarity with charm. It had been working, the pockets full of coins were proof enough. They smiled to themself, thinking back to the rowdy cheers at their cocktails and concoctions.
Four minutes left now.
That didn’t mean that they weren’t exhausted. A closing shift by any other name was still a closing shift. After the last call, which wouldn’t be for gods knows how long, they would still have to balance the cash drawer, wipe the bar, clean the tables, mop—judging by how rowdy the crowd was tonight—check liquor levels, prep, and then lock up. Just thinking about it made their feet ache more.
Still leaning against the wall, Bern sat down on a wooden crate nearby. It must have been leftover for their last shipment of booze. It creaked as they settled onto it, interrupting the silence of the outside. They rubbed their neck trying to work out the growing crick before it became a problem. Would it be worth it to have a smoke? Maybe they should just wait for their next break. Patting their pockets, they found their decision made for them. Their lighter was definitely still under the bar. They cursed to themself before continuing to soothe their aches; digging their thumb into the palm of their other hand, relaxing the tendons.
This pain was probably just leftover from that trip. And the pain in their neck. And that cramp in their calf that had been popping up more and more. That’s what they told themself at least, not willing to admit that their years of bartending and travel might finally be catching up with them. At least it paid well—and boy did the patrons of First Moon really pay well.
Three minutes left, maybe. They had started to lose count. The other staff could handle the bar if they were gone for a minute or two longer.
It was funny how similar First Moon was to the last place they found employment. Although every one of these places was pretty similar. A worker’s dive, low light, big drinkers. They just didn’t usually tip this well, at least not this early on. Bern had spent months at the Drunken Sailor getting the regulars to warm up to them, and yet here they were almost immediately accepted. Even their boss seemed to trust them almost right away—enough to let them open and close their first week.
Bern stopped massaging their hands, just letting themselves sit for a moment.
Maybe it was because this wasn’t home for any of them—not really. Sure some of them had settled here in Mythrite, but none of them were from here. It wasn’t like the other places, where generations had had time to lay down roots before Bern showed up with their rucksack. Where newcomers were looked upon with hesitation. Here all he had to do was flash a smile and shake up a good drink and they welcomed them in with open arms.
It was comforting, in an odd way. They weren’t an outsider in that regard, not like they usually were. There were no cloying questions about family and background here. It seemed like most everyone had something that they left behind. Why else would they come all the way out here, to the edge of civilization?
They took a deep breath, sitting up and stretching. They could see their breath, the steam wisping up towards the sky. It was late, too late for most respectable people. Bern was sure that on the other side of town the upper echelon of society was just finishing their nightcaps before heading off to the canopy beds. The idea of being able to slip in between silk sheets and be carried off to dreamland triggered a yawn.
Maybe picking up the closing shift every night this week wasn’t the best idea. Too late to give them up now, and it wasn’t like they didn’t need the money.
They shivered, the cold air finally getting to them. Their break was probably over by now. Sighing, they put a smile back on their face. Getting up, Bern dusted themself off before heading back inside.