A tall man in an expensive suit slammed his glass down on the table hard enough to make nearby diners look up. His voice cut through the room like a blade.
“This is ridiculous!” he shouted at a young waitress standing nervously beside him. “I said no onions. How hard is that to understand?”
The waitress looked barely twenty. Her hands trembled slightly as she tried to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I can have the kitchen—”
“I don’t want excuses!” he interrupted loudly. “I want competent service.”
The entire restaurant had gone silent.
Margaret watched the scene quietly for a moment. Years of working in emergency rooms had taught her to recognize stress, anger, and fear in people’s faces. The waitress wasn’t just embarrassed—she was frightened.
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