Thirst

Elliott looked at his coworkers sitting around in the Olive Garden kitchen. Some leaned against walls and closed their eyes, others stared intently at cracks in the tile floor, and a few played with their thumbs. "This is so pointless," Elliott thought. Three days ago, the city's water shut off unexpectedly. Few citizens were working, but Elliott was signed up for a five-hour shift at Olive Garden today. It's not like they were doing anything though–all of the Olive Garden employees were forced to sit around silently waiting for nothing. It  was if their boss believed the water would come on any minute and suddenly flocks of people would come through the front doors demanding their Eggplant Parmigiana and breadsticks.

But five hours later, the faucets still ran dry, and no crowds had gathered at the entrance, so Elliott left. He knew he couldn't complain. Elliott was getting paid for five hours of work and could use the money, but he just felt so useless. He could have been studying, or cleaning, or doing anything else to get his life together, but there he was for five hours doing nothing. Elliott quickened his pace and became madder. He had so much to do, so much to learn, but his time was just being wasted. He heard a high voice call his name and groaned.