With an anxiety heretofore unrivaled in his short life, Den watched her face react. First came dumbfounded surprise, an altogether predictable response for someone pulled from the solitary task of rummaging. Then came the dawning of recognition, that faint light of knowing a familiar face toned down a bit as there was no distinct emotional tie. Finally came the collapsing of the shoulders and a grateful smile—Hallelujah!
“That would be really nice of you,” April said in a voice that seemed to say there was so much more going on than just needing a blended orange concoction.
“Sure, sure, no problem. Orange, um, julius?”
“Yeah, thanks again.”
“N-n-no problem, really.” Damn the stutter! Damn the stutter! Den reached for his wallet and eyed the pitiable contents, two wrinkled ones. He knew there was no change in his pockets.
With only a modicum of hesitation he reached for the credit card, the card he’d been given for emergencies only. This, he thought, if ever there was one, was an emergency.