This time next week, SHOUT will no longer be there, and I am not sure how to feel about it.
Old friend, you will be kept alive in jotted snippets and paper clippings.
The mere idea that people are somehow emotionally attached to their jobs used to sound absurd to me. Yet, here I am.
The place had no soul or spirit left, and it was evident in the colourless walls, the unclean glasses, the empty eyes of the server who left me a menu card.