Chapter 7 · free to read
Three nights. Three counters wiped down at closing. No second plate on any of them.
He tried produce first. The best chillies on the lane, left at the leg of the cart as an apology nobody had asked for.
Then the burner grate he had welded straight at four in the morning.
No plate. No crate. Nothing in his hands at all, for once in his life.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.