trays.
“Emma,” my supervisor whispered, rushing past me. “Table seven needs water. Table three complained their bread is cold. And stay away from the center aisle unless someone calls you.”
I nodded.
That was another thing I had learned to do well.
Nod.
Smile.
Disappear.
I was refilling glasses near the front when I first heard his voice.
“Excuse me.”
Sharp.continue reading …
