Giovanni sat in the worn, vinyl covered booth with his eyes nervously darting from the entrance to the waitress who had just promised to return with the bill. A sense of dread washed over him at the realisation that they had consumed such a large meal between the two of them when he had no money to pay for it. How had he forgotten that he had no money?
The cracked linoleum floor creaked beneath his fidgeting feet and the low hum of the customers chatting only served to heighten his discomfort. He swallowed hard, his mind racing to find a solution before the server returned to collect her payment. He glanced around the diner as if the heavens would bless him with a quick answer to his problem. The chipped mustard bottle merely stood erect on the weathered countertop.
Should he politely explain their situation and hope for understanding?
Luciano reclined casually in the booth, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.
