The following day, I returned to the restaurant, my curiosity undiminished. The manager’s demeanor had left an indelible impression, and I felt compelled to uncover the truth. As I entered, the familiar sounds greeted me—a comforting symphony of voices, clattering dishes, and the gentle hum of background music.
Seated once more, I observed the ebb and flow of the staff, each person moving with a practiced grace. The manager was absent from the floor, his absence conspicuous in its own right. I seized the opportunity to speak with the waitress from the previous evening.
“I noticed there was something off last night,” I began, my tone conversational yet pointed. She hesitated, her silence stretching like a taut wire.
“It’s nothing, really,” she finally replied, but her voice wavered. “Just some internal matters.”
Her words confirmed my suspicions, and I pressed on, hoping to glean more from her guarded responses.
“Are there any documents or reports that might explain these ‘internal matters’?” I asked, my question direct yet respectful.
Her eyes flickered momentarily before she regained her composure. “I can’t really say,” she replied, her voice a whisper. “But maybe you should speak to the manager directly.”
Her suggestion hung in the air, an invitation to pursue the truth further. I nodded, my resolve strengthened by the exchange. There was more to uncover, and I was determined to see it through.
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