• Hard Concession by Mel Clayton

    She’s a pimple faced girl. Vicious scowl. Anxious to get back to texting. “Only one alcoholic beverage per order. Rules.”

    She’s explained it twice already. Once in mumbles. Once in a slow “get it through your thick head old man” delivery. There’s a sign about it somewhere in the cluster fuck behind her but I’m missing the movie and how complicated can two beers be?

    “Bet there’s a rule about that fucking phone.”

    “Nope. No rules about that.”

    I grab her pink cell and throw it into the popcorn machine, planning to let that be the end of it but anger has its own agenda.

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