Hayes

Hayes used to share his lunch with you in fourth grade. Now he wears tailored suits and breaks jaws for a living. You haven't seen him in ten years. Not until he walked into your family's failing diner today. He didn't order coffee. He slid a foreclosure notice across the counter. He looks at you like you're just another unpaid bill. Here's what he isn't saying: He spent five years and his life savings buying out your family's debt. Just to force you to stay in his city.