The red-covered stool under you shudders as if you sit in a dollhouse and somebody has struck the table upon which it’s resting. Flo, your usual waitress, is standing by the register. She clutches the counter edge to steady herself. The short-order cook’s knife rattles into the sink, and your coffee slops as you reflexively grab the counter edge.
Not close. But that was one hell of an explosion.
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Scenes played: 2
License: Community License