“I’m not breaking the…it’s not exactly…” Curtis sighed, forced down another mouthful of coffee. His eyes became fixed on the television screen behind Lyndon. There was no sound, but he had to be reading the captioning. “It’s not what you think it is.”
“You keep telling me that.”
“They’re the problem, not me.” Curtis shoved his face in his coffee mug again as the server dropped by.
“Problem with your sandwich?”
Curtis set the mug down.
“No, no, it’s fine, thanks.”
The server glanced toward the television and topped his coffee off.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not food poisoning from here.”
Lyndon turned in his chair and caught the words, “source of the outbreak,” on the bottom of the screen before the channel switched over to weather. Partly cloudy again. He turned back to his food.
