July 1991 - 16 Months Before the Accident
Sixty, sixty-five, seventy-two, another quarter makes it ninety-seven.
Caleb watches the woman one patron behind him. She’s been digging change out of her beat-up jean bag for several minutes now, and watching her while he’s waiting in line has become a bit of a fascination at this point.
The initial action that had caught his attention was her opening her wallet, and ringing out in a string of curses that would make any sailor blush. One female patron had covered her young son’s ears while throwing a glare in the cursing redhead’s direction. With a snicker, Caleb had then watched as she dug deep in every pocket of her beat-up blue jeans, and then began checking her bag furiously as the line advanced.
Watching her juggle her hot cup of coffee, her jean bag, a rather large leather briefcase, and an armful of oddly assorted items in a plastic bag was beginning to become something of a spectacle inside the deli. Every now and again she’d realize the line had moved and scurry forward, losing count of the change in her left hand in the process.
Finally, the line moves forward enough and it's Caleb’s turn. $1.68 for the tea and newspaper, and a whispered $5 to cover whatever the redhead was getting. “Keep the change,” to the cashier, and Caleb leaves the deli, taking the first available seat in the tables arranged outside.
Caleb watches the woman one patron behind him. She’s been digging change out of her beat-up jean bag for several minutes now, and watching her while he’s waiting in line has become a bit of a fascination at this point.
The initial action that had caught his attention was her opening her wallet, and ringing out in a string of curses that would make any sailor blush. One female patron had covered her young son’s ears while throwing a glare in the cursing redhead’s direction. With a snicker, Caleb had then watched as she dug deep in every pocket of her beat-up blue jeans, and then began checking her bag furiously as the line advanced.
Watching her juggle her hot cup of coffee, her jean bag, a rather large leather briefcase, and an armful of oddly assorted items in a plastic bag was beginning to become something of a spectacle inside the deli. Every now and again she’d realize the line had moved and scurry forward, losing count of the change in her left hand in the process.
Finally, the line moves forward enough and it's Caleb’s turn. $1.68 for the tea and newspaper, and a whispered $5 to cover whatever the redhead was getting. “Keep the change,” to the cashier, and Caleb leaves the deli, taking the first available seat in the tables arranged outside.