Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
The car was dented and faded, its rear bumper held together with silver duct tape.
Through the cracked side window of his truck, Carter could see the outline of Henry’s head against the headrest.
The old man was sitting perfectly still in the driver’s seat.
A faded brown wool blanket was pulled up to his shoulders, and his hands were resting on the steering wheel as if he were waiting for a green light that would never come.
Carter watched him from behind the dusty windshield of his truck.
He felt a sharp pinch of guilt in his stomach.
Henry had spent his entire life working hard, only to end up sleeping in a rusty sedan because of medical bills he could never hope to pay.
A delivery truck rumbled past on the highway, its exhaust shaking the glass in Carter’s door.
Henry did not turn his head to look.
He just sat there, staring straight ahead at the brick wall of the closed diner down the road.
If Henry decided to pack up his blankets and drive toward Chicago tonight, the entire plan would fall apart.