The restaurant lights dimmed.
Chairs stacked. Floors mopped. The last server waved goodbye as the door clicked shut behind her.
Sasha stood alone in the kitchen.
No orders. No noise. Just her — and the dish drop, clean and dry.
She walked over and ran her hand along the cold steel.
Once, this spot had felt like a battleground. Now it was just… a station. A tool.
She didn't hate it anymore.
She sat on a crate, the same one Debbie once claimed for her "mental health breaks."
Sasha smiled at the memory. Debbie, always unpredictable, always dramatic.
She wondered where Debbie was now.
Probably somewhere else, counting her teeth with her tongue, making someone else work harder.
But Sasha didn't feel anger anymore. Just understanding.
Back then, Debbie had felt like an obstacle. Now? She seemed like a mirror.
Sasha had walked that same line — anger, exhaustion, pride — but turned left instead of right.
And that made all the difference.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Reed:
"Thanks for today. I didn't drown."
Sasha replied:
"Neither did I. See you tomorrow."
She stood up, turned off the kitchen lights, and glanced once more at the silent dish drop.
Still clean.
Still hers.
Outside, the air was cool. The city pulsed around her, alive.
Sasha walked home slowly, unburdened, unhurried.
Tomorrow would come, and with it, more work, more noise, more challenges.
But tonight, she had peace.
And for once, that was enough.