Mr. Whitaker, looked up from his workbench, his eyes widening at the sight of Reuben’s enraged demeanor.
He had seen many customers in his time, but none quite as furious as the man before him now.
Reuben marched straight to the glass showcase, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor.
With a forceful slam of his fists, he made the delicate trinkets inside rattle, and the other customers in the shop turned to stare.
From his coat pocket, Reuben produced a wristwatch, its silver band glinting under the shop’s warm lighting. He held it inches from Mr. Whitaker’s face, his voice booming through the quiet store.
“You said this watch would last me a lifetime,” he bellowed, his breath fogging up the glass.
Mr. Whitaker, a seasoned jeweler with decades of experience, remained calm.
He adjusted his glasses and peered at the watch, recognizing it as one of his finest pieces.
“Yeah,” he admitted with a nod. “But you looked pretty sick the day you bought it.”
