He picked his city center location, the first one he had launched, where his mother once assisted with baking pies. As he stepped onto the pavement, the hum of traffic and morning pedestrians surrounded him. The aroma of frying bacon wafted through the air. His pulse quickened. Inside the café, the recognizable red seats and patterned tile floor welcomed him.

Two cashiers were behind the counter. One, a young woman in a pink apron, scrolled on her phone while chewing gum. The other, Denise, older and tired-eyed, barely glanced up. When she finally muttered, “Next,” Jordan stepped forward.

“Good morning,” he said.

No response. Just a sigh as she rang up his order and tossed the change onto the counter.

From a corner booth, Jordan observed. The staff wasn’t busy — they were careless. A mother repeating her request three times went ignored. An elderly man asking about a discount was brushed off. A worker swore loudly after dropping silverware.

Then he caught their whispers.

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