Keith felt like Max was important. Like he knew something that Keith didn't. Like he knew Keith was looking for someone.
Max worked at a restaurant. They did Italian food but americanized to something completely different. Sometimes he be on bread sticks. He liked those days, easy and he could blast his vape in the back room as long as he blew it up through the grill exhaust. He hated the rest. Lots of orders and prepping. He hated the chopping, your hands so busy you just thought, but random thoughts would pop in his head. Like "What does Michael Cera order at a restaurant?" or "Did anyone ever figure out how many licks to the center of that sucker.". Sometimes more serious thoughts would come into his head like "what if when he goes back home
Gas City
is different?".
He liked the end of the rush. The chopping stopped, and it was just cleaning and prepping for dinner, bins had to be emptied trash had to go out. He liked the outdoors. Sometimes when he went out he felt like he was in some nature commercial the patch of grass seemed greener than anything in the world when the breeze hit. When that first vape puff hit. It was magic.
