Abby
The restaurant door clicks shut behind Karl, sealing off the outside world and its nosy journalists. Karl brushes off his hands as if he’s just dealt with a minor annoyance, but his eyes meet mine, full of concern.
“You okay, Abby?” he asks, walking over to where I’m standing.
“I’m fine,” I say, even though my pulse is still racing. “Just a little shaken up. I didn’t expect that.”
Karl sighs and leans against the counter. “Welcome to the future, Abby. The more successful you become, the more people will come after you, trying to crush your spirit and ruin your reputation.”
His words, although harsh, are true. I should have expected that something like this would happen if I hired a homeless person. Not everyone is as understanding as the people who work in my restaurant, I guess.
