The humming sound of a heavy refrigerator. Stale, cold light falling from the ceiling, illuminating the sparsely decorated glass cage that this place is. In front of me, a half-eaten salad, overrated and overpriced, with a vinegar dressing that reminds me of my first beer. As a kid I never understood why people kept drinking it.
What made me take out my pen and notepad though, was the aforementioned sound of the stainless steel cooling machine that contains sandwiches, salads and other semi-savory bakery. It reminds me of my childhood. My parents have this ancient glass fridge in their restaurant. It's old and loud and I never thought I'd miss it.
I partly grew up in the restaurant and I hate that I don't have a proper kitchen in my apartment. I like my place, but that's definitely a minus. I have a gas stove and a coffee machine, a sink and a toaster, but I'd like my kitchen to be a separate room with a small window, a wooden table and the humming sound of a refrigerator.