You felt the liquid hit your stomach and a warmth spread throughout your body. You were tired but could feel the fake energy of your sugary beverage sustain you.
You looked at your phone. It took a few seconds for the numbers you were reading to actually register as meaningful data and not meaning less heiroglyphs.
4:18, 4:18, that means something... you took another big swig from your energy drink, oh! 10 no 12 minutes left on break!
You walked out of the store and darted into the Mall's bathroom hallway, at the end you walk through the employee only door without skipping a beat. You take another swig from your energy drink, more than 3/4 done.
You turn left, then right, an old pro when it comes to the labyrinth that is the employee area of the mall. You go through a solid door and suddenly you are outside, the stench of rotten fast food quickly assaults your nostrils, but you are accustomed to it. You take the last swig from your energy drink and belch, throwing your can in the garbage. You pull out a cigarette and light up.
You look at your phone checking the time left on break. 4:20, you chuckle to yourself wishing you had more than just some cigarettes. It has been 25 hours since you slept, shit, all-nighters suck.
You smoke quickly knowing you have 10 minutes to be back at your register. You race back the way you came, kicking yourself for wasting time, detouring for the energy drink but knowing you needed it. You stop in the bathroom to freshen up, like you do every break.
You look awful. the bags under your eyes are pretty obvious and your beard shadow isn't looking all that professional. You briefly wonder what you are doing with your life and how you got here, but your existential moment is cut short by the time. Your shift will be finished by 6:30, you can go to your shitty apartment, smoke some weed and sleep until 9 am. Then you can shower and be back to work by 10.
The color on your arm caught your eye. "Yeah, this weekend I can add to my arm tattoo." you thought with excitement as you admired the design that had scrawled its way from your neck down to your forearm over the last 7 years since you were 18. Every now an again you could feel the judgement and disgust of customers you served as they saw your artistic adornments. You loved the feeling you got of being the thing that exposes them to the rest of the world and popping their little mono-cultural bubble.