Babestation Staff-room
A glorified closet where the staff slouches like a group of tired raccoons who forgot how to be human. It’s not for coffee, it’s for survival.
The staff-room is where I go to hide from the cameras and the people who think they’re funny.
They call it a staff-room, but I call it the place where dreams die and coffee goes cold.
The staff-room is where you go when you’ve had enough of pretending you’re not a broken robot.