26 - Maeve
I was not more advanced after I finished the heart-attack meal. I retrieved the crutches from the intact bench and hobbled to the counter, feeling the gazes on me. I left the diner a bigger tip that the food warranted, because of the threat.
While negotiating the narrow aisle, I bumped on a yellow-shirted man.
“Oops, my bad!” I said.
Looking up, I recognized the red-haired hardware associate, minus his name tag. His blue arm tattoo featured a foaming sea wave lifting a long flat boat, like the famous Japanese painting. I wondered why he ate lunch so far from his place of employment, before noting his downcast eyes.
“Are you OK?” I asked, this ubiquitous inquiry.
“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice trailing off.
If I had a dollar for all the “nothings” that caused so much t
