Zander threw open the doors to Good Eatin’s, a small restaurant established an entire year prior. He removed his top hat and bowed to the middle-aged hostess. “That’s right, it is I,” he announced.
He held up a hand to wave off the attention of a young couple and their daughter waiting to be seated. “No flash photography, please.”
The hostess glanced at the confused looking couple, then cocked an eyebrow at Zander. “Can I add you to the waiting list, honey?”
He guffawed. “It is I,” he said again.
The hostess shrugged and shook her head.
Zander huffed and strode over to the corner of the restaurant— gathering a small crowd of people behind him. He twirled with a flourish and gestured towards a framed dollar bill with a caption that read 𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘢𝘭𝘦.
“Oh, you were our first customer?” the hostess asked.
Zander chuckled and beamed. “I am the grandson of that very man!”
The hostess scratched at her forehead with her pen, and asked, “So… were you wantin’ me to add you to that waiting list or not, honey?”
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