Mr. Morgan

His voice sounded like a gravel road and he never even looked up from his plate of eggs.

Mo looked at me, "That's Mr. Morgan, Teddy."

I got up off the stool and walked to the end of the counter and sat down beside him. He was scraping up the last of his eggs with his fork. It screeched across the plate like a swooping pterodactyl.

"When I was a young man I worked at the factory where her husband had his accident. I saw her a few times there."

"What did she look like?" I asked with grim anticipation.