The adrenaline was still humming in my veins, a vibrating wire that wouldn't let me sit still. I pushed through the heavy kitchen doors, ignoring the stunned silence of the dining room, and headed straight for the back alley.
I didn't smoke. My mother would have smelled it on me the second I walked through the door, and besides, the idea of tar in my lungs didn't appeal to me.
Instead, I pulled a small, plastic wand from my apron pocket....a bottle of bubble solution I had bought at a dollar store. It was ridiculous, maybe even a little "corny," but blowing bubbles into the damp night air was the only thing that kept me from screaming.
I blew a long, steady breath. A cluster of iridescent spheres wobbled into the air, reflecting the neon "Clover’s" sign in their fragile surfaces before
