Sour and Spoiled

The news lifted my anxious spirit. I lifted my chin for my success and turned my head around patting myself for a job well done, when I caught the surreptitious glances thrown at me by the old woman and a man who had recently joined her inside the counter. The two were having a hushed and what looked like a sneaky conversation. The man had a dirty-looking, tangled, unkempt hair, and who wore an apron that resembled more the likeness of a greasy rag. He was obviously the eatery’s cook. Looking at the two talked insidiously alerted me. It instantly flushed out the short-live jubilation I was relishing.