The sharp hiss of oil hitting the frying pan mingled with the clatter of pots and pans in the cramped kitchen. Wale wiped his forehead with his sleeve, the heat from the stove soaking his shirt. It was just another endless shift in the Minnesota restaurant where he worked. Orders barked by the manager blended into the noise of the kitchen, a constant background irritant.
"Order up! Table five!" the manager shouted, her voice cutting through the noise.
Wale bit back a curse and moved to grab another stack of burger patties. The smell of grease hung thick in the air, clinging to his skin and clothes. His friends Justin, Collins, and Favour worked nearby, their movements efficient but weary. They'd all been running on fumes for weeks.
At first, this job had felt like an opportunity—a stepping stone to something bigger. It wasn't glamorous, but it was a start. He'd come to Minnesota with a mix of nerves and hope, thinking this could be the place to build his foundation. But the reality was far from what he'd envisioned.
Justin leaned against the counter during a lull, holding up his arm to show a fresh burn. "Can you believe this? Asked the manager for gloves last week, and she said, 'We can't afford them right now.'" He snorted, shaking his head. "They can't afford gloves but can shout about squeezing out more burgers."
"Maybe if they treated us like humans, we wouldn't keep getting hurt," Favour muttered, barely looking up as she wrapped sandwiches. "I swear, my back feels like it's breaking from standing all day."
Collins, who usually had something to say about everything, was unusually quiet. He kept chopping vegetables with slow, deliberate movements. Eventually, he spoke, his tone flat. "You know my cousin? He's in New York, and he says they're hiring. Better pay, better conditions. I'm thinking of leaving."
Wale glanced up from the grill. "New York? Just like that?"
"Yeah, just like that." Collins's gaze didn't waver. "I didn't come all the way here to be treated like this. And I sure didn't come here to fry burgers for the rest of my life."
The shift dragged on, but Collins's words stayed with Wale. They all had dreams when they'd arrived—plans to work hard, save money, and send some back home. But the reality of their situation was wearing them down. One by one, those dreams seemed to be slipping away.
Justin was the first to quit.
"I'm done, bro," he said after their shift one night, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "New York's calling. You should come too, Wale. You don't owe this place anything."
Wale just nodded, watching him leave. The kitchen felt quieter without Justin's jokes to cut through the tension.
A week later, Collins packed his knives and tossed his apron on the counter. "Can't take this anymore," he said simply. "Good luck, Wale. Don't let them grind you down."
Favour hung on the longest, trying to stay optimistic even as the long hours and poor treatment wore her down. On her last day, she pulled Wale aside. "You're too patient," she said. "You deserve better than this. Don't wait until you're completely burned out before you make a move."
Her words hit harder than he expected. Wale stayed on, partly out of fear of the unknown and partly out of sheer stubbornness. But without his friends, the job became unbearable. The hours stretched longer, and the manager's sharp words cut deeper. Every day felt heavier than the last.
One evening, after a particularly grueling shift, Wale sat on the edge of his bed in the tiny room he shared with another worker. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, adding to the weight of his thoughts. He pulled out his phone and scrolled to Felix's number. Felix, a friend from orientation, had found a job at an amusement park nearby.
Wale: "Hey, man. Are there any openings where you're working? I think I'm done here."
The reply came quickly.
Felix: "Yeah, bro! We're hiring. Chill vibes, better pay. Let me know if you're serious, and I'll hook you up."
Wale stared at the message for a long moment before typing back: "I'm serious."
The next morning, he handed in his resignation. The manager barely looked at him as she processed the paperwork, her eyes skimming over the form as though it was another routine. "Bitch," Wale muttered under his breath as he signed. Her indifference didn't bother him—if anything, it reinforced that he was making the right decision.
Packing up his few belongings was a quiet, sobering experience. The room, once a space of hope and ambition, now felt suffocating. He stuffed his clothes into a bag, along with a few books and the framed photo of his family he kept by his bed.
The bus ride to his new workplace wasn't long, but it felt like a journey into another life. Minnesota's flat landscape stretched out in every direction, the fields bare under a pale sky. Wale stared out the window, his thoughts heavy but tinged with a flicker of hope.
When he arrived, Felix was waiting at the bus station, grinning broadly. "Welcome, bro," he said, clapping Wale on the shoulder. "Trust me, this place is way better."
The shared apartment Wale moved into was modest but clean, a far cry from the cramped quarters he'd left behind. The smell of fresh laundry filled the space, and the living room was lit with soft, natural light. He unpacked slowly, each item finding its place in this new chapter of his life.
That night, as he lay on his bed in the quiet apartment, the hum of the amusement park faintly audible in the distance, he let out a long breath. The weight of the past few months seemed to ease slightly.
It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't the end of the road, but it was a start.
Wale stared at the ceiling, a cautious sense of hope settling over him. Maybe this was the change he needed.
For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that things could get better.
make it a two chapter story and do not make edit