The streets of Plasticville were dim and empty in the pale glow of dawn. Only a few golden circles of light from the streetlights dotted the road, shadows lurking in between. I strolled down the immaculate sidewalks, each brick polished to perfection, as if they were mocking me for daring to tarnish them with my footsteps. The pastel buildings on either side stood tall and proud, their windows gleaming like judgmental eyes.

I pulled open the door to the coffee shop, the familiar chime filling my ears. My kingdom awaited: espresso machines glistening, chairs carefully arranged, and the scent of yesterday’s coffee wafting through the air like an invitation. I got a job here right out of school a few years ago, and they basically let me run the place already.

I start the coffeemakers, their gurgling and hissing the only noise breaking the early morning silence. The shop won't open for another hour, but I like to be ready. The Plastic Ones value punctuality above all else.

A stray cat meowed outside, scratching at the door. I let him in, as I did every morning, and filled his bowl with milk and kibble. "Well, Gary, it's just you and me again." I said, scratching him behind his ears. He purred, blinking up at me with pale green eyes. The clock ticked on and my mind wandered to daydreams of traveling beyond Plasticville. But of course I knew that wasn’t possible. Gary pawed at my leg, interrupting my reverie. I sighed. "You're right. This is our life now— and forever." Gary meowed in response, lapping at his milk. I always felt like Gary was the only one that understood what really was going on around here.

Right on time, the first customers shuffle in. Their expressions are as blank as their plastic skin. I plaster a wide smile on my face. "Good morning! Welcome! What can I get started for you?"

They stare back at me with vacant eyes - rattle off drink orders in monotone voices. Nonfat vanilla latte. Skinny caramel macchiato. Sugar-free white mocha. So predictable. I punch the orders into the register, my customer service smile plastered on. They slide their $Ones across the counter and I hand them their dose of caffeine.

"Here you go. Have a perfect day," I say, handing off each drink. The Plastic Ones murmur thanks and shuffle to their tables. As I wipe down the counter, I watch them sip their drinks in silence. No laughter, no chatter, just the occasional tap on a phone screen. Like robots programmed for efficiency.

Sometimes I wanna scream just to get a reaction. Anything to break the monotony in this lifeless plastic town. But I bite my tongue and keep on smiling.

—

I nod and smile as the next wave of customers streams in. More Plastic Ones going through the motions, not a hair out of place. As I'm steaming milk, the bell on the door jingles again. Heavy footsteps approach the counter.

"Mayor Gleam! Good morning," I say through gritted teeth.

He stands before me in his shiny silver suit, his platinum hair slicked back. That smug grin that makes me want to slap him.

"Yes, yes, good morning," he says breezily. "I'll have my usual."

"Of course. One nonfat sugar-free vanilla latte, coming right up."

I turn around to make his drink, feeling his eyes on me. The great and powerful ruler of Plasticville. How I'd love to spill scalding milk all over that shiny suit of his.

Instead, I hand him the drink with my best customer service smile. "Have a perfect day, sir."

"Oh I will," he says. He lingers at the counter, surveying the shop, before strutting to his usual table. The Plastic Ones glance at him nervously as he passes. His presence seems to suck the remaining life from the room. I shudder and continue working, avoiding his piercing gaze, waiting for this perfectly plastic day to slowly trudge on.

–

I nod along politely as I wipe down the counter, half-listening to the murmurs around me.

"...got in so much trouble for singing yesterday..."

I pause my wiping, straining to hear the hushed voices at the corner table.

"Singing? On the assembly line?" another voice says.

"That's right. Judy in packaging. Started belting out some song while she was working."

My eyes widen. Singing is strictly prohibited in Plasticville. An unsanctioned display of individuality.

"How awful," the second voice replies. "Did they...take her away?"

"I'm not sure. She hasn't been at work since."

I glance over nervously. The two women avoid my gaze, sipping their coffee in tense silence. Singing...how I'd love to let loose and sing right now. Feel the notes vibrating through me, transporting me away from this sterile, lifeless place. But I know that's impossible. That kind of freedom could cost Judy her life as she knows it.

I swallow hard, plastering my customer service smile back on as I continue working. But inside, my heart is pounding. Singing on the assembly line...could it be? A crack in Plasticville's perfect facade? A hint of rebellion? For the first time in ages, I feel a glimmer of hope.

—

It’s late afternoon and I nod politely as Officer John enters, the bell on the door announcing his arrival.

"Evening, Morgan," he says in his usual crisp tone.

"Officer John, the usual to start your shift?" I ask.

"Yes, thank you."

I turn to prepare his black coffee, my hands shaking slightly. Get it together, Morgan.

As I place the steaming mug in front of John, I force a smile. "There you are. Stay safe out there tonight."

"I always do," he replies. His plastic smile doesn't reach his eyes.

I watch him curiously as he sips his coffee. John has always unnerved me, with his rigid adherence to Mayor Gleam's rules. I wonder if he knows about the singing incident at the factory. Surely he'd be tasked with tracking down Judy and "reeducating" her.

My hatred for this town wells up inside me. No singing. No joy. Only order. Only perfection. My hands clench into fists under the counter.

"Everything alright, Morgan?"

I snap back to the present moment. "Yes, of course, Officer. Just thinking about inventory. Have a good night."

John nods, dropping a few $Ones on the counter before heading out into the darkness. I let out a shaky breath as the door shuts behind him.

One day, Plasticville will see just how flawed their "perfection" really is. And I hope I'm there to witness the whole plastic town shatter.

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