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Fletch the Oven Master

The fluorescent glow of the Pizza Hut kitchen had never been Fletch's preferred lighting. His natural habitat, the realm of the orcs, boasted the harsh, beautiful glare of volcanic ash and the flickering torchlight of cavernous halls. Here, it was the relentless hum of fryers and the clatter of pizza trays. Fletch, an ogre-type monster whose hulking frame barely fit beneath the low-slung ceilings, had endured another shift. The final buzzer for the last delivery order echoed like a distant war drum. Fletch, whose official title was, "Oven Master & Dough Specialist", slammed a fresh Supreme into its thermal bag. "Done", he rumbled, a sound that made the teenage cashier jump. The red Pizza Hut polo, stretched taut across his broad, greenish chest, felt like a straightjacket. The smell of processed cheese and stale bread clung to him like a desperate limpet. He didn't bother with the staff locker room. The polo was ripped off with a single, powerful tug...
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As twilight draped the city in shades of indigo, Steph leaned against the old brick wall, the surface warm from the day’s heat. The air was thick with the scent of roasted coffee and the faintest hint of tobacco. She lifted her takeaway cup, the aroma enveloping her senses. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled out a cigarette, her fingers deftly rolling it between them.

The ritual began. She sipped the steaming coffee first, the rich flavour igniting her spirit. It was a moment of quiet rebellion, a splash of warmth against the coolness of evening. With a sigh, she exhaled slowly, before bringing the cigarette to her lips. As the smoke curled, it danced in the fading light, ephemeral and haunting.



Steph’s gaze drifted across the street where shadows lingered, past the laughter of friends gathering in clusters, their carefree chatter drifting like leaves in the wind. She felt alone but alive, suspended between two worlds — the comfort of caffeine and the allure of smoke intertwining like old lovers.

Another sip, another toke. The coffee washed down the bitterness of the world around her, while the cigarette exuded a wisdom she longed for. In that brief moment, Steph was both the dreamer and the dream, caught in the fragile balance of indulgence.



As the sun dipped below the horizon, the city buzzed with life, but she remained there, lost in a haze of reflection, savoring each delicate blend of smoke and warmth, each small rebellion against a world that moved too fast.

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