Dale came out through the metal door from the service bays.

He had on his navy blue work shirt with his name stitched in red thread above the pocket.

He wiped his black-stained hands on a rag and stopped behind the vinyl counter.

“I need you to reissue my last paycheck as a cashier’s check, Dale,” I said, keeping my voice down so the customers waiting wouldn’t look up.

“The direct deposit failed Friday night.”

Dale laid his palms flat on the countertop.