PhantomPizza

You enter through the glass doors and a rush of cool air encompasses your body. The sun leaks through the glass ceiling tiles and you almost feel like you’re walking at the bottom of the ocean. An array of scents of fried foods and the sounds of echoed music being pumped through high up speakers tickle your senses. Your shoulders loosen up and you breathe a little easier as you’re distracted by the ambience. The local mall was the place you decided to meet up. It seemed like a nice place for a first date; open, chill, and not too fancy. There were no real expectations here. The place was empty besides a few other older couples and a group of elderly women all gabbing about their next stop. It was early on a Wednesday, so not many people were crowding the mall, which was perfect. It would give you time to focus on your date rather than worrying about anyone else. You pass by the “Italy’s finest pizza” and “Locos Tacos” stalls. A few workers are either looking busy or bored out of

Franky sighed rather loudly, hopefully catching the attention of his coworkers. No one seemed to notice, or rather care. Each one just stood and stared off into space, looking as though their souls had been sucked out; some actually might have. Everyone knew what day it was and everyone dreaded it. Physical check up in the office. It was something the boss had come up with a few years ago. It was supposed to make sure everyone was fit and healthy after spending day in and out at their desks. Documenting souls into a computer for 12 hours straight was one thing, but standing in line for the boss to berate us for being “overweight” or “not looking healthy enough” then going through a hardcore exercise regimine was actual torture. Someone once suggested cutting back on hours so they could get some proper exercise; that person doesn’t work here anymore, they might not even be alive. Franky tugged at his suit and tie for the hundredth time, trying desperately to make it look looser.