Chapter 8

I hold out some hope that I might get to feel her fingers brush my skin as she hands me the change that is due, but my luck today has ended, and the three coins fall into my hand with a muted clink. She slides over a plastic table marker adorned with the number nineteen, and my brief command of her attention has come to a close.

I sigh and wander off to find a place to sit. I end up on one side of a table meant for two and place my number in the center.

The group of kids who were ahead of me in line are now on the other side of the tiny dining room. They’re being loud and obnoxious, throwing straw wrappers at each other, knocking over one of the hot sauce bottles that adorns their table. For some reason they find the toppled bottle to be incredibly hilarious and continue in hysterics even as one of the more conscientious members of the group rights it again.

I try my best to ignore them.