Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
Carter adjusted his gold wedding band again, the metal cold against his skin. He looked back at the register, where Troy was leaning against the counter.
“They are fast,” Carter said quietly.
“Too fast,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “They don’t care about this place, Carter. They are just waiting for the day they can leave.”
Carter stood up, leaving a five-dollar bill on the table for his coffee. He walked toward the register where Troy was now standing alone, Megan having disappeared into the back storage room.
Troy did not look up as Carter approached the counter. His fingers were resting on the register drawer, his knuckles white against the metal.
“Have a good afternoon,” Carter said.
Troy slides the drawer shut with a sharp click that makes the silver spoons rattle.
By eight o’clock the next morning, the rattling had stopped, replaced by the steady, high-pitched hum of the old milk dispenser in the corner.
Carter sat on the far end stool, his faded blue construction cap pulled down to shadow his face.
Near the entryway, Henry slowly pushed a wide broom across the black-and-white tile, his movements measured and deliberate.
