"Diane," I said quietly.
She looked up.
"Tell me what's going on."
Her mouth trembled. "Bennett..."
"Please."
She swallowed hard and looked away. "I can't."
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"You can't, or you won't?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry."
She turned and walked fast toward the restroom before I could stop her.
A few minutes later, Hank from shipping passed by, squeezed my shoulder, and muttered, "This ain't right."
I grabbed his wrist lightly. "Then tell me what is going on."
He looked terrified.
"I'm sorry, Bennett," he whispered. "I can't lose my job, too."
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That word sat with me all the way home.
The months that followed were the kind that scrape a man hollow.
