The steady hum of the dishwasher was the loudest sound in Ren’s corner of the kitchen.
Its rhythmic whirring was oddly soothing, allowing him to think and hear his own thoughts for once.
Since the manager had banned him from using headphones at work, Ren had grown reliant on the noise of the machinery to anchor him in the chaos around him.
“They specifically said ‘NO PEANUT OIL’! I’ll never understand why you can’t read the damn tickets! We could’ve killed someone, or worse, had the restaurant shut down by the Health Department!” Chef Stu yelled at the new cooks.
Guess there’ll be some line cook openings soon, Ren thought, scrubbing away at the dishes in the hot, stifling water.
The heat fogged his glasses, but he’d long grown used to the blurry view.
His mind wandered again, tuning out the yelling of line cooks over orders, the sizzle and snap of food on the grill, and the sound of plates sliding across counters.
The rhythm of his work filtered out the chaos, keeping him grounded in his corner of the kitchen.
Despite the ever-growing pile of dishes, the partnership between Ren and the machine allowed them to chip away at the mountain, and by the end of his shift, the plates were clean.
“Good job, kid. Not a single plate broken this week! Keep it up and this might just be the first month you don’t drop anything!”
Stu chuckled, patting Ren on the back.
Ren offered a small laugh, trying to match his energy.
He wiped his glasses on his apron, putting them back on as he scanned the kitchen for the manager.
When he didn’t see her, he glanced at Stu.
Stu caught the look, smiling knowingly as he walked toward the pantry.
Ren felt the moisture on his freshly dried hands, tiny droplets forming on his skin.
“Here. It ain’t much, but—make sure you sneak out before the boss sees you.”
Stu handed him two containers of leftovers and some wilting vegetables.
“There’s spinach and kale in there too. Don’t let those go to waste. Eat your greens, or you won’t grow any taller,” Stu joked, ruffling Ren’s hair as Ren clutched the bag close.
“Thanks, Mr. Stuart. I’ll pay you back for these soon—”
Stu cut him off with a firm squeeze on his shoulder.
“You don’t owe me anything- but I told you a thousand times to take the trash out on time! Now get lost!”
With that, Stu shoved Ren towards the back door.
Ren was confused by the sudden change in his tone until he heard the unmistakable sound of heels clicking across the floor—no less ominous than the hooves of a devil.
He froze.
And the devil caught up.
“Feel free to do your charity work from your own paycheck. Don’t be so generous with my supplies.”
She pointed at Ren who clutched the bag tight.
Stu wedged between the two of them.
“Mind showing me what’s inside the bag?”
“Lay off, Ada. I’m throwing out what’s expired. We can’t serve rotten food.”
“I’d love to see your definition of ‘rotten.’”
“Fine. You can handle the next pantry clearance. And you know what—I’m done with your constant nagging. I don’t tell you how to manage the front, so how about you stay out of my kitchen?”
Stu’s voice grew louder as he kept Ada distracted long enough for Ren to escape.
The street stretched under the weight of midnight, the desolate asphalt dimly lit by flickering streetlights.
Ren quickened his pace as the wind howled, biting his exposed skin with the sharp sting of cold.
Soon, he reached his apartment, as he was about to knock when the door opened on its own.
His younger brother peered through the gap.
“You’re late.”
“I’m sorry. Had some extra work today.”
“You promised to help with my math homework.”
“Ah… I forgot.”
Ren walked inside, kicked off his shoes, and handed over the plastic bag with leftovers.
The two brothers sat down to eat.
Ren gave one container of fried rice to his brother, taking some from the other for himself, setting the rest aside.
“Mom?”
Ren asked.
“She’s working late again.”
David replied as he fidgeted his spoon on the rice.
“Oh. Alright, let’s finish your homework before she gets back. Then we can—”
“I already finished it.”
Ren scraped his spoon against his plate.
“Oh, I see.”
Ren looked at his little brother, who ate silently, eyes focused on his food.
The rest of dinner passed in silence.
***
The silence hung heavy in the quiet apartment as David went to bed.
Ren exhaled, the weight of the day settling in.
His muscles ached, his fingers numb.
He sank back into the chair at the dining table, having placed the container in the refrigerator for his mother.
The low hum of the appliance was the only sound that filled the small space.
The apartment was modest—just two bedrooms.
One was shared by the brothers, the other remained vacant most nights.
The narrow kitchen clung to the living room, which doubled as the dining area.
A broken television sat in the corner near Ren, its purpose long forgotten.
He couldn’t even remember when or why it stopped working.
Ren stretched, his bones cracking like bubble wrap.
The air was stale, tinged with the faint scent of sour bread and the remnants of a cheap bar soap melting in a dish by the sink.
He made a mental note to buy a hand wash dispenser next month.
‘Bar soaps were a bad choice, no matter how much cheaper they were.’
Lost in thought, his eyelids grew heavy.
The ticking of the clock seemed to echo like footsteps marking the approach of the witching hour.
Ren glanced towards the bedroom just off the living room, where his little brother lay curled under a threadbare blanket, softly snoring.
His chest rose and fell with quiet grunts and murmurs, while the flickering streetlight outside cast strange shadows into the room, shifting with each strobe.
The shadows seemingly grew longer as the night deepened.
Ren pulled out his phone.
A message hovered on the locked screen:
[Rent is due.]
He sighed, uncertain whether to call his mother.
‘I hope she isn’t busy.’
The phone rang, the dial tone loud even without the speaker on.
After four rings, she picked up.
“Hello? Sweetie—still awake?”
Her familiar voice was instantly comforting.
“No, I was just about to- It’s just that—”
“Don’t stay up too late, dear. Have you eaten? There should be—”
“Yes, Ma, I’ve eaten. What I was trying to say is—”
A sudden jingle interrupted him from the other end.
“I need to go, sweetie. It’s a code blue. I love you. Take care. Mom loves both of you.”
Click.
Even after the line went dead, he stayed where he was, frozen in place.
He was used to this by now.
He and his mother spoke often, but they rarely talked.
Ren set the phone down and stood up, eyes wandering over the remains of the past—family photos that once adorned the walls now stacked next to the broken TV.
Even without looking at the photos, the frames alone reminded him of a simpler time—before the bills piled up, before they had to count every penny.
***
Ren lay awake.
Despite his exhaustion, sleep eluded him.
He glanced over at David, a twinge of jealousy stirring within him.
Trying to find rest, his thoughts drifted to his mother.
‘I can talk to her about the rent tomorrow…’
She was always so tired, so worried.
Always moving, never pausing to catch her breath.
In truth, he was no different than her—both of them struggling to keep the lights on.
They didn’t really have a choice in the matter.
At times, seeds of resentment would take root in Ren’s heart.
‘Why me?’
‘Why am I the one carrying this burden?’
‘Why can’t things go back to the way they were?’
The questions cut deep, but only silence answered them.
A silence that stretched on, heavy and unyielding.
Ren turned his gaze to David one last time.
The sleeping child’s innocent face melted away the resentment that had begun to bloom in his chest.
The reason behind it all—the weight he carried, the things he did, the endurance despite everything—was clearer now.
Though the silence of the night never answered his questions, a part of him always knew the answer.
That part reminded him: the apartment might be small, the walls thin, but it was theirs.
It was a home where his little brother could sleep soundly.
And for tonight, that was enough.
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