May I Take Your Order

*Note: This story contains elements of sexual molestation in the workplace, and references the mental and emotional damages caused by such.*

Cassie didn't pretend to know much about chaos theory, but she knew enough to know when the universe was trolling her. In the past ten minutes, this was the fourth customer to order their coffee with "three cream, seven sugar". It was a weirdly specific order. 

Of late, it seemed that strange coincidences like this were more readily apparent to Cassie. It was as if, once she began noticing occasional improbable patterns in day-to-day life, there was suddenly a constant and unavoidable stream of them, seemingly seen by her alone- although clearly visible to anyone who paid attention. 

Honestly, though, what were the odds? Most people dismissed it easily, so why was it so prevalent in her thoughts? Between taking endless orders for greasy burgers and greasy fries, Cassie pondered whether or not it really was strange for some people to randomly want the same items. Her mind, bored with the work, continued to wander a winding path from there.

At 34 years old, her life had seemed to be nothing but chaos for a good many years. As her father used to say when he was alive, "Rhyme and Reason are locked away in the tower." Most days, she couldn't help but agree. 

At the same time, she'd always had an awareness of a mysterious sort of order to the world. Some people credited God, or even numerous gods, but these days, Cassie no longer knew what she believed when it came to a higher power. She only knew that she felt like a badly written computer program, created with good intentions, but excessively glitchy. 

"Hello. May I take your order?"

"Yes, I'd like a large coke, no ice, and a Jumbo Bacon burger."

"Alright, your total is $7.25, thank you. "

Next order. 

"Hello."

"Hi! How's it going, I want. A Jumbo Bacon burger. And I think... I also want... a large coke with extra ice."

"Your total is $7.25, thank you."

Maybe it was all in her head. Just coincidences, nothing more. Yet, it reminded her of something her old manager at the local hospital had often said, back when she had a job that mattered. "If it makes you think twice, there's probably a reason," Jerry loved to say. Something he'd heard once from someone far more clever, no doubt. She missed that job, but she didn't miss Jerry's unsolicited groping. 

"Hello."

"Yeah, gimme a cheeseburger."

"Ok. Which one do you want?"

"Ummmmmm..... Just a regular cheeseburger."

Inwardly, Cassie sighed hopelessly, but she forged onward, helping the customer decipher the menu and request an actual item, and then, once he moved on, she stared at her computer screen despondently, waiting. 

Next customer. 

"Hello. May I take your order?"

"Hey! Hey, Cassie, is that you?"

"Um. Yes?"

"Oh, ha! I was hoping I'd catch you taking orders! Baahaha! Giving you orders again, that's rich! "

No way. It was Jerry. The loathsome, oily self-assurance in his voice was unmistakable. Someone up there, somewhere, was definitely messing with her. It was as if just thinking about Jerry had summoned him. Unbelievable. 

"Hello. Are you going to order anything?" There was a long, awkward pause. She was not about to engage this man as anything except a customer looking for some fries.

"Yeah. Ok. I'll get a Jumbo Bacon and a large coke."

"That's $7.25."

She didn't want to see his face. Her stomach plummeted with dread as he pulled up to the payment window, and her hands clenched. She felt a wave of pure, suffocating shame roll over her when she saw him sitting in his car, grinning triumphantly, as if he'd just won a prize. Please, she thought to herself, please, just let this be over.

She unclenched her hands and opened the window. His puffy lips stretched like a lurid snake around his teeth, and his piggy eyes twinkled with malice as he sneered up at her. Holding his debit card, he reached a pasty hand towards the window... and stopped. The grin fell from his face, replaced by an expression of utter disbelief and horror. 

Without another word, he abruptly faced forward, and before Cassie could even react, he rolled up the window and simultaneously stomped on the gas, speeding towards the busy street. As Cassie watched, mouth open in shock, the yellow Camaro lurched into traffic with a loud screech of tires, followed by a chorus of horns and tire squeals. Having made a remarkable escape, the Camaro wove into traffic and quickly disappeared from sight. 

Her mind reeling, Cassie raised a shaking hand to her face and laid it on her cheek. She felt sick. Her hand came away wet, and somewhere inside her head, a voice explained that blood meant danger. Red was a warning. 

But, wait, it wasn't red, was it? She stared at her hand, held palm up in front of her. There was no blood. There was nothing. The clean, pink skin shone innocently, like the face of a child. 

"Cassie? You ok?" Angie, her current manager, poked her head around the corner with some degree of urgency.

"Yes. I mean, I think so..." Her voice came out in a strange, quivering tone that echoed inside her skull. "Angie?"

"What? You've got cars lining up to the street, don't let them sit there like that. What's going on?"

"I'm... I don't know. Is there... anything on my face?"

"No, there isn't. Hurry up and take some orders."

Cassie complied robotically. As she had been trained to do, year after year, by the slogging machine of society. In the back of her head though, she wondered, and her thoughts travelled beyond automation, to endless possibilities beyond. 

On the drive home that night, radio turned off, Cassie didn't try to analyze the nature of reality. Her mind was as blank as a sheet of copy paper. Dark, heavy clouds did not entirely obscure the brazen gold rays of the setting sun, and, as she rounded the last curve, a thought spoke from the deeper parts of her mind. Maybe, it said. Maybe reality is the lie.