Larry and Ray, needing lunch, found themselves at McDonalds, a lazy choice that Larry soon regretted. The lights hurt his eyes. He felt the clown’s ominous presence. The more he searched the menu for a bargain, the more confused he became.
An older woman, in uniform, surely somebody’s grandmother, approached the counter. “May I take your order?”
Larry felt as if he had waded into a swift-flowing stream, into current, out of his depth. He looked back at Ray, hoping his friend would throw him a rope. “What’re you having?”
“Get me the same as you.”
In the parking lot Ray looked into the sack. He wondered whether Larry had noticed the steam coming out as the old woman’s bony fingers crinkled it shut.