Everyone watched the old man, waiting. Some expected anger. Others, fear. A few hoped for confrontation.
Instead, he calmly reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, placed a few bills on the table, and stood. Adjusting his jacket, he walked toward the door without glancing at the bikers once.
The door closed softly behind him.
The bikers laughed.
“That’s it?” one said. “Didn’t even say a word.”
“Some people just don’t have any backbone,” another said.
“Not much of a man, was he?” one called to the waitress.
She glanced at the window, then back at them, a slow smile spreading.
Continue reading…
