The Return of The Forsaken Son-in law

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The last of the fries disappeared between Marco’s teeth, the salt and grease settling like lead in his stomach. He wiped his hands with the thin paper napkin and stared at the half-empty cup of watered-down soda on the table. For a moment he considered ordering something else, but his pocket reminded him sharply of the reality he lived in now. The little money left had to stretch.

He could not afford to linger.

With a slow breath, Marco pushed back his chair and rose. The din of the diner swelled around him with clinking cutlery, the hiss of the fryer, conversations overlapping like this was a bad orchestra competition. He adjusted his jacket and turned toward the exit.

But as fate would have it, a figure cut across his path at the same time. Marco bumped into the person, and before he could step back, a tray tilted, pouring hot food on his chest.

The ketchup splattered across his shirt in a bright, ugly smear, the heat of the fries and grease searing briefly through the thin cotton.