**Chapter Four: The Loading Dock**
My journey into the heart of The Loft was a labyrinth, with each twist and turn revealing a new facet of this enigmatic café. As I settled into my role as a kitchen hand, I soon discovered that the café had a back end that was as intriguing as its front end was bustling.
The loading dock, tucked away from the prying eyes of café patrons, was where the dance of logistics unfolded. It was a space where stock came in, and, as I would later learn, where secrets departed in more ways than one.
To access the loading dock, I had to navigate through a maze of corridors, each turn marked by danger signs plastered on the doors. "Keep doors closed at all times," they read, a foreboding reminder of the mysteries that lay beyond.
Once I arrived at the loading dock, the first thing that caught my attention was the large dumpster bin. It was a beast of a machine, emblazoned with the words "The Loft" and the peculiar weight of 24.5 kilograms. Curiosity gnawed at me; what was the significance of that weight?
The loading dock was a hub of activity, though much of it occurred behind closed doors. Crates of fresh produce arrived, stacked high with the promise of culinary delights. Yet, it wasn't just food that passed through here.
I watched as hospital staff wheeled trolleys laden with covered bodies, shrouded in white sheets. These were the patients who had passed away in the hospital's care, their final journey taking them through the loading dock and onto a waiting truck.
As I observed this solemn procession, I couldn't help but wonder where these bodies were bound. Were they destined for cemeteries, or would they be taken to crematoriums, their remains reduced to ash? The loading dock held its secrets close, and I was left with more questions than answers.
Shane, the stockperson of the hospital, was a constant presence at the loading dock. He was a skeletal figure, always dressed in black, with sunken eyes that hinted at a deeper understanding of the mysteries that surrounded us. One day, as I pushed the bin on wheels towards B2, I spotted Shane sitting on a makeshift chair, a mock-up Halloween skeleton, smoking a cigarette.
"Halloween is just around the corner," I remarked, trying to strike up a conversation.
Shane nodded, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Yes, it is," he replied cryptically, his eyes fixed on the trolleys carrying the covered bodies.
I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the loading dock than met the eye. It was a place where the hidden narratives of the hospital converged, where life and death intertwined in ways I was only beginning to comprehend. My journey had taken a darker turn, and the mysteries of The Loft were far from over.