I finally went to check the breakroom and found her pacing, yelling into her phone. “I don’t care what the doctor says, I NEED MY TIME!” she screamed, slamming her fist on the table.

She saw me standing there, phone still in hand, and shouted, “I’m on my break, Evan! ADA, okay?” Then she stormed out, leaving her apron on the chair.

I finished her shift, covered her register, and cleaned up the mess she left behind. By the time I locked up, the breakroom was empty except for her crumpled timecard.

Sat down for a minute, stared at the clock, and whispered, “Yes, friend. This is fine.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630787&forum_id=2#48314513)