The Embers
I stood in the entryway of the restaurant, rather disgusted by what I was witnessing. A cook was in clear view in the kitchen window picking his nose. He was really digging in there, and had a haunted, almost vacant look on his scruffy face. I wanted to turn around and walk away, but I couldn’t. For some reason, this place had drawn me.
"Can I help you?" a woman's voice diverted my attention. She was in her late teens, possibly early twenties, and still had a rash of angry acne