Underthrow, 13

Miles laughed and slapped Travis on the back, at once becoming his usual self. Sarah, Travis noticed, had seen their illicit bargaining, but she only raised her eyebrow for a moment before focusing on squeezing mayonnaise onto a blanket of shredded beef.

“Everything good here?” Vin asked with a scowl. He stood where Travis should have been, slicing bread. A line of customers snaked long past the entrance again.

“All good,” Travis murmured, repeating it like a desperate mantra as he returned to the sink. All good. In a few seconds he’d pull away the paper towel, grab a fresh pair of gloves and replace Vin, rejoining Sarah and Miles on the assembly line for the last time.

Football would happen; Travis would be all right.

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