It is always damp and in the wrong rack. Shared gadgets turn grown women into detectives. I want my tray. I want my dignity back.
Tag: shiftwork
Three alarms, two hairdryers, one narrow corridor. I am not asking for a convent. I am asking not to start work already fully irritated today.
Kettle on, someone half dressed, my cereal in the crossfire. I live here. I work early. Your new friend does not need any kitchen tours.
Not pretty landmarks. Late food counters. Which one still serves you when you look a state. That is how I map this whole messy London.