He was staring at me with that look—half anger, half something worse. Like I’d offended his personal pride.
I tried to keep my face calm, but I could feel the heat crawling up my neck.
Carl didn’t say anything at first.
He just wiped his hands on a towel like he was preparing for a performance.
Then he started walking.
Straight toward the corner booth.
My feet wanted to move, wanted to stop him, but I froze—because that was what people did around Carl. They froze and hoped he wouldn’t choose them as the next target.
The diner noise softened in my ears, like my body was bracing for impact.
Carl reached the booth. The man looked up, sandwich still untouched. Emily’s coffee cup steamed quietly between them.
Carl’s voice cut through the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, not even at the man—at the sandwich, like it had insulted him.
The man didn’t answer. He just sat there, shoulders tense.
Carl’s gaze slid to me across the diner. “Emily. You think you’re running a charity now?”
I swallowed. “It’s just a sandwich.”
