[The Dishwasher] didn’t even know himself in these moments. When time practically stopped when the lips of the waitresses stopped making sound. The heavy bags of food trash rash as a feather. The glass after glass of soda pop sucked down to ice. Eves filled with sweat. The steam of the Hobart punching him in the face. The decision to grab a flat tray or a plate tray, just knee-jerk.
And under it all, the shame. A thing worse than guilt. At least with guilt you could ask forgiveness. Not shame, shame lasts forever.