She glanced toward the kitchen. Harlan was in the back, yelling at the dishwasher about inventory. The cook, Luis, caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. Sarah nodded once.
A few minutes later, she carried a plate to the corner booth: a classic cheeseburger, fries still steaming, a small side of coleslaw she’d added on impulse. Nothing fancy, but it was hot and it was food.
She set it down gently. “On the house,” she whispered. “Eat before it gets cold.”
The man looked up, startled. His eyes were tired, but kind. “I… thank you. Really.”
Sarah smiled quickly and turned away before he could protest.
She hadn’t taken three steps when Harlan’s voice cracked like a whip.
“Sarah! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He stormed out from behind the partition, face red, pointing at the plate. The diner went quiet. Even the arguing couple stopped mid-sentence.
“That man hasn’t paid for anything. You don’t give away food. How many times do I have to tell you?”
Sarah froze. “He looked like he needed it, Mr. Harlan. It’s just one burger—”
“One burger comes out of my bottom line. And yours, if I decide to dock your pay. Take it back. Now.”