Fifteen people. Twenty. At both ends of the aisle. Phones out. Filming.
Gloria from produce was standing next to Henry. Sixties. Gray braid. A Lakeview Foods apron. She had her hand on Henry’s shoulder.
Henry was holding the mop. He hadn’t used it. He was just holding it.
His glasses were fogged. His face was wet.
Pamela Strand was standing six feet away.
Still holding her phone up. Still livestreaming. Talking into it.
“—finally. FINALLY. Here he comes, you guys. The manager. Let’s see what he has to say.”
She turned the phone toward Terrence as he walked up.
“Are you the manager?” she said.
“I am.”
“Great,” Pamela said. “Then you need to fire this employee. Right now. On camera. He knocked over a whole cart of glass bottles. Right next to me. I could’ve been seriously hurt. And he just stood there.”
Terrence didn’t look at her.
