There Was No Seat for Me at the Luxury Restaurant. By Dessert, They Regretted It

is being wronged. Margaret sipped her tea. David made a note in his small book. Patricia either didn’t hear or elected not to acknowledge it.

I stood.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

James was standing in the hallway between the private room and the main pub with the positioned calm of someone who has decided that this threshold is not being crossed. Rebecca continue reading …