flash by flawnt

Though we were selling pizza, not guns, we tried to keep our faces still, even when a customer with incredible grief entered, like this guy who had just lost his entire family, wife and three children, and still ordered for all of them, every Monday night. The lappets of his mouth were lovelorn. We had endless meetings about our apparent inadequacy: we accused ourselves of being cruel, blamed our parents for suppressing our life energy, and the state for spending too little on making people laugh, but the fact remained: we were frozen, though behind our facade, we felt for every one of these dough-devouring people, who frequented our famed eatery and we never judged them.