Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
Megan sat on a high stool by the register, her eyes fixed on her phone screen while she snapped her chewing gum with rhythmic, wet clicks.
“You missed the dirt by the umbrella stand, Henry,” Megan said, her voice fast and sharp without her looking up.
Henry stopped, leaning his weight onto the wooden broom handle.
He rubbed his lower back with his left hand, his fingers pressing hard into the worn fabric of his trousers.
“I will get to it immediately, Miss Megan,” Henry said, his voice quiet and formal.
Megan did not reply, her thumb flicking rapidly across the glowing glass of her phone.
Carter adjusted his gold wedding band under the counter, watching the girl’s fingers.
She had not checked the register drawer once since she arrived, even though three customers had already paid for their five dollar and fifty cent breakfast specials.
“We need more clean mugs up front,” Megan said, finally looking up and pointing a long nail toward the kitchen.
Henry nodded once, his shoulders slightly hunched as he turned toward the back.
Carter watched him go, noting the slow, shuffling gait that seemed heavier than it had the week before.
