Pearl’s Bucks
When Pearl Diamond walked up to the soda fountain at Shelby’s for her Friday afternoon chicken-salad sandwich and iced tea, she stopped dead. The friendly smiles she expected from the citizens of Pleasantburg had gone missing. Instead, eyes turned toward her and quickly looked away, faces reddened, and Pearl faltered as she slid onto her usual stool. She checked her make-up and hair in the mirror.
Finally she spoke. “So who died?”
Silence. The waitress brought her tea.
“Pearl, we’re so sorry,” she said.