"Hey Rick, table number 3 asks for a roasted mutton, Kindly note. 4 has been placed for sausages" These words were uttered by Naori, a middle aged widow lady who was working as a waiter in a restaurant. She was dressed in an elegant taste, it was not a five star restaurant still the matter of facial countenance always matter.
The place was bustling with crowds, especially people who smelt money.There brows frowning post taking a small bite of pork, "what is this, this pork is not -soft Not - at - all soft. Can I talk to the chief" was complained by a sober woman with gooseberry color attire, a shining necklace giving the whiff of money.
Naori was simply dedicated to her job, as she needed money. Living alone is not at all easy, the bills, the cooking, the housekeeping is to be done by you. A job of waiter can hardly bring you any cash merely as much a nazi would spend as a tip.
Today was quiet , the place was filled not as always but it was a gentle day for Naori to take a breath after having her ears crooked after hearing complaints and orders.
The place was as big as a basketball court. It's up to you to imagine a restaurant having several wooden seats in corners which smelled edible with paint.
Naori was quite surprised, an old man who could hardly was up to this restaurant he looked a gentleman with a puce color court.
Good One Dear