She grimaced at the memory then hung up her coat and started her shift. She went through the motions like she did during every shift, somewhat disassociating so that she didn’t have to think too deeply about how soul sucking the whole ordeal felt. Had she really survived a bloody war just to serve nerdy guys pastries while pretending to be their hired help? She didn’t want to judge the women she worked with, she knew there was nothing wrong with having a job like this, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was beneath her somehow. 