(no subject)
The sun was still beaming it's remnants over the horizon, grazing the clouds with a peach cream tint. The color seeped through the bare office window and through the small crack inbetween the door and it's frame, spilling purple and orange into the kitchen. He stood, shirt in hand as the musk smell of the kitchen filled his nose one last time. He called this place home. He looked about him at the utensils neatly hung in rows above the counters, the ovens that spewed the heat into the kitchen, the small space on the wall where projects were posted. He knew this place like the back of his hand. This is where he became a man. Memories filled every corner and shaded area. Friendships created and lost echoed down the line of grills, fryers and sinks. Alliances and battles rose, stories of life and death were told, lives were changed here in this very kitchen. But the voices echoed louder off the walls now. This place felt more hollow. As he threw his shirt over his shoulder he took in one last look of everything he could possibly look at from his position and walked into that warm sunset.