They didn’t come today. They had been coming every day, and the tips just seemed to grow. An elderly couple and a young stud with a neck tattoo. Whatever. Bobbi wasn’t born yesterday, and if the couple needed help to hit the high notes these days, she wasn’t going to judge.
Ah well, she was philosophical, nothing lasts forever. But… ah, those tips!
“Excuse me, Bobbi?”
Turning around, she saw a middle aged couple pushing a withered, ancient old geezer in a wheelchair. Despite the hot weather, the old man was wearing a thick scarf pulled high.
“Table for three?”
(word count 100)
Hi folks, another Friday Fictioneers challenge post from Rochelle’s blog.
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