“Self-service,” she said, placing them on the woman’s knee. “I’m serving myself the pleasure of helping you.”
“It is,” Martha smiled. “But I’m the self that hands you the pencil.” cracker barrel front porch self service
He laughed—a real laugh, the kind that starts in the chest—and scooped up the toddler. Together they sat in two rockers, the man coloring in the little circles next to Pancakes and Scrambled Eggs while the toddler chewed on a crayon. “Self-service,” she said, placing them on the woman’s
The woman stared. Then, slowly, she smiled. She unwrapped the candy, tucked her phone away, and rocked. ” she said
“Machine’s broken,” Martha lied smoothly. “You looked like you needed a minute.”