TWENTY-ONE
When Roger DiSalvo arrived at work on Tuesday, James was ready to go. It had been a long day. Busy. There had been a little downtime between breakfast and lunch rushes. James handed off the spatula, hung up his apron, and put on his jacket.
“We still on for tonight, Monty?”
Monty worked hard at the sink. The front of his apron and his shirt were soaking wet. The young man wore rubber gloves that went up to his elbows. The clean dishes, pots, and pans were stacked nicely on the left-hand side of the sink’s counter. The dishes, pots, and pans waiting to be washed were stacked on the right. Monty was having a good day. The stack on the left surpassed the waiting ones on the right. “We are still on for tonight, James.”
Mondays were special. It was the one day a week Monty got ou
