The next morning, the smell of warm coffee filled the dining room. Sarah sat quietly at the long glass table across from Julia, who was neatly dressed in a cream suit.
The morning light streamed through the large windows, casting soft glows on the silver cutlery. For a while, they ate in silence.
Julia placed her cup down and looked up with that calm authority she always carried. “Sarah,” she said gently, “tell me about yourself. Your family, where you’re from, and what really brought you to work as a waitress.”
The question made Sarah’s hand freeze halfway to her mouth. The fork clattered softly against the plate. Her eyes dropped instantly, and she forced a small smile. “It’s… it’s a long story, ma,” she murmured.
Julia noticed the shift in her tone and leaned back, watching her car
