3 Nights in Sam Lor

1 During the late night rush, the small hole-in-the-wall restaurant is a cacophany of sound with voices and the atmospheric clinking of dish and cookware echoing off of its walls. Steam from the kitchen and pleathora of freshly prepared meals lingered in the air, mingling with the fresh air of a cracked front window. The bright toll of a bell just barely breaks through the noise, alerting the attention of the two floor staffs.

"Sawasdee kha! Welcome to Sam Lor~" Lilt greets, almost in unison with the male variation from her coworker, as she lifts a full tray above the heads of a few customers to get by in the tight space.

"Just seat yourself and I'll be with you in a second, sonnim~" she promises in an acutely 'customer service' voice, gaze snapping around as a regular calls her by name before requesting a refill on one of their dishes. Smiling, the trainee nods and starts setting down dishes at her destination table.

"I'll get that right away! And, you two, if you need anything, I'm a shout away. Eat well~" she says, quickly but clearly before bowing and going on her way to tackle the next task.

2 "Sonnim, do you need anything else?" the young woman asked, metal tray clasped to her form with an arm to allow enough space in the tight inter-table aisles. Despite her attentiveness and friendliness with the customer, it was clear that another part of her mind was elsewhere as her gaze drifted to the other two staff and owners occasionally coming from the kitchen with dishes in hand.

Her stomach protested the current activity, particularly when a steaming plate of nam tok neua was set on the table. She really regretted skipping lunch now. The customer finished their request for more Mar Hor and beverage refills, so she gave a curt bow and made her way back to the kitchen, passing by another tantalizingly scented dish in the hands of her boss. As soon as the last glass was filled at the customer's table, the middle-aged man's voice sounded over the din of other customers' conversation:

"Dinner time, come sit!"

And just like that, Lilt and her peers were seated at the table within seconds, an almost cartoon-like speed to the three of them, once they assured their tables that they could still be called on if needed. They waited—somewhat impatiently, much to the amusement of their dad-like employer—for him to eat first before also beginning to tuck in, light conversation and occasional requests for service studding the mealtime.

3 With the upbeat sounds of Chanbit's 'Day by Day' playing in her ears, Lilt danced about the empty dining floor of Sam Lor with a broom held securely in her hands. When she wasn't performing for the imaginary audience in her head, she reached deep under tables and between chairs with the long-handled brush to retrieve things dropped during the dinner rush and gathered them all to the same spot to be swept into the dustpan.

As the song eventually ended, shifting to the next in queue, she immediately adapted to the song's vibe—somberly sweeping as if she was lamenting some tragic loss of love while the opening piano to 'She's Gone' filled her ears. A coworker looked on in amusement, eventually gesturing for the other to come enjoy the show while Lilt took on the broom as a guitar when the other instruments joined. If she wasn't working, she'd actively be writhing on the floor akin to the original stages and feeling. Instead, she began to sing—her pained, yet melodic voice, filling the hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

She'd been anticipating, building herself up, to the first set of octave raises and when she—to her surprise—successfully reached the 4th without sounding like a mangled animal, she followed it up immediately with a delighted loud-but-short scream, literally dropping what she was doing to throw her hands up and turn to her audience, "No pterodactyls!!!"

She'd have to flag down her vocal coach in the morning—assignment: complete.