It was 8:00, and the doors to the shop had now closed as the last remaining chores are being fulfilled. Long strands of plastic wrap are being pulled over the product. The lights slightly flicker and buzz as I walk through the sub shop. The tables are cleaned, the floor vacuumed, and the basement mopped and cleaned. 

Meanwhile, I pull the Clorox out and bleach the cutting board after a long, hard day. I was scraping the bleach into the trash bag. I solemnly look at the clock once more, before taking the trash out along with the extra bread. The walk feels like an eternity, one step after the other. The finish line seemingly moves farther away with each step.