Not bad at all. The boy grinned wide, his chest puffing out as though he had just been given a medal. The old woman’s lips curved faintly, as if she had not smiled in a long time.
Darius turned quickly, reaching for a dish towel to cover the sting in his eyes. He busied himself at the counter, but inside, he felt a fragile ember of hope he had not felt in months. The moment was broken by a knock at the front door, it was not light or uncertain, but sharp and deliberate, making the glass rattle.
Darius stiffened, his shoulders squaring, he tossed the towel aside and walked to the entrance. Through the window he saw a man standing in the cold, his coat collar pulled high, his breath fogging the glass. Darius opened the door, the man stepped inside without waiting, his eyes sweeping over the cleaned restaurant, a smirk tugged at his mouth.
Looks cleaner than your books Carter, he said, his voice mocking. Funny how you can keep a floor shining, but not your accounts. Darius’s jaw tightened, his grip on the door firm.
He said nothing. Silence was the only defense he had. The man leaned closer, his smirk widening.
Two weeks he said, his tone casual but his eyes hard. Get me my money, or this place isn’t yours anymore. He tapped his knuckle on the counter, turned and walked out, his boots crunched in the snow as the door swung shut behind him.
Darius stood still, his breath shallow. The weight of the words pressed down on his chest, he looked at his hands and saw they were trembling. He clenched them, forcing the shaking to stop, but it wasn’t only his hands, it was deeper than that.
It was fear shame and anger all tangled together. Behind him, the old woman stepped into the doorway, her eyes sharp, she said nothing, but she had seen the way his fingers shook, the way his silence carried pain. The boy peeked out from behind her, his face pale with worry.
Who was that Mr. Carter, he asked softly. Darius turned to him quickly, forcing his face to soften, he crouched down and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, his voice was steady, though it scraped in his throat. Don’t worry about it, he said quietly, it’s nothing you need to think about.
The boy nodded, though his eyes searched Darius’s face as if trying to understand. The old woman’s gaze stayed fixed on him, heavy with unspoken truth, but she said nothing. Darius straightened, picked up the towel again, and turned back to the counter, the restaurant was quiet, filled with the smell of lemon and soap, sunlight touched the clean tables, but the man’s threat hung in the air, heavy and cold…
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