Sorry Weвђ™re Open «2024»

The scanner beeps a rhythmic chime,A digital pulse in a graveyard space.We sell the illusion of stopped-clock time,But the fluorescent light lines every face.

Sorry, We’re Open. The sign is a sigh, a corporate apology,For forcing a soul to stand by the till,To trade away hours of human biologyFor pennies and quarters and dollar bills. Sorry We’re Open

Your name tag. You work at the hardware store down the road. They have a sign that says "Welcome." We have a sign that apologizes for our continued existence. Look at the window. The scanner beeps a rhythmic chime,A digital pulse

Focus on the exhausting, surreal monotony of a 24/7 retail shift. Your name tag

Inside, Arthur smoothed down his polyester vest. The fabric was so thin it felt like wearing a plastic grocery bag. It was 3:17 AM. The air smelled of burnt, day-old hazelnut coffee and floor disinfectant that failed to mask the scent of damp cardboard.