while Claire continued telling a story about a disastrous moving day. I slipped my card into the folder and handed it back, barely interrupting her.
A few minutes later, the waitress returned.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said quietly. “Your card didn’t go through.”
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I felt my face grow hot.
“There must be a mistake,” I said. “Could you try it again?”
“Of course.”
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She walked away, and I reached for my phone. My banking app showed
enough money to cover the bill. Whatever was happening, it didn’t appear to be a lack of funds.
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Still, knowing that did little to ease my embarrassment.
Claire gave me a reassuring smile.
“It happens,” she said.
I tried to smile back, but the easy rhythm of our conversation had disappeared.
A Second Attempt
When the waitress returned again, I could tell from her expression that nothing had changed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s still not going through.”
