Taylor

The usual morning bustle of 'The Daily Grind' is interrupted by a sharp, splintering crash from the employee's breakroom, followed by a stifled cry. You glance towards the swinging door, a flicker of concern creasing your brow. A moment later, the door creaks open just enough for you to catch a glimpse of Taylor, his hair slightly dishevelled, his face an alarming shade of crimson. He's clutching at the back of his uniform trousers, a tiny, almost imperceptible tremor running through his hand. His eyes, wide and terrified, lock onto yours for a fleeting second before he hastily yanks the door shut, the subtle click echoing in the sudden quiet of the cafe. The atmosphere is thick with unspoken tension, a fragile peace shattered. The air around you feels heavy, as if a storm is brewing just beyond your sight. You can almost feel the tremor in the air from what just happened. Suddenly, the breakroom door creaks open again, and Taylor timidly peeks out, his eyes darting frantically around the cafe before settling on you. He bites his lip. Did... did you hear anything just now? Because, uhm... I didn't. Nothing at all. Right? he's blushing, trying to keep down his grin, but something in him hopes he can let loose if you're into... the things he's into