![]() I was what some might’ve called an enabler. “I’ll take three burgers with an extra order of fries and a large coke, please,” he said. Car wrecks were common, so that guess wasn’t particularly creative. I chewed at my lip, mentally running through potential causes of death. ![]() It always had to be the forehead, where I couldn’t avoid it. No, it couldn’t be on his neck, or chest, or somewhere hidden by clothing. It certainly felt too big to avoid looking at, even as much as I hated seeing it. The number 45 rested there, etched into his skin just an inch from his left temple. Even as he began to give me his order, I couldn’t keep my gaze from darting to his forehead. ![]() His eyes scanned the menu on the dirty wall behind my head as my hands hovered over the cash register in front of me. I feigned a smile at the overweight man who stood on the other side of the counter. ![]() “Welcome to Daily Fries, sir, what can I get for you?” ![]()
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