Frankie counted his money on the diner counter while Anna refilled coffee down the row. Nine dollars. He wanted to marry her and give her a real home. Right now he could not even buy her dinner. He kept his feet turned inward, the way he always stood, and watched her work. Anna's red hair caught the window light. She laughed at some trucker's joke, then glanced at Frankie and smiled just for him. That smile was the reason he stayed in this town. It was also the reason he felt like a failure. Frankie had no steady work. He picked up odd jobs, a day here, a day there. No boss kept him longer than a week. His pale green skin and sunken cheeks made people nervous. They took one look and found a reason to say no. He could not rent a decent place on scraps. He could not build the life he pictured. Anna set a plate of eggs in front of him. "On me," she said quietly. "I can pay," Frankie said, sliding a bill across. She pushed it back. "You paid me in company last week. We're even." Her kindness stung worse than any insult. Frankie looked at the eggs and made a decision. He would not sit here and take charity. He would ask the owner for a job, a real one, today. The owner was a heavy man wiping down the grill. Frankie walked into the kitchen and stood straight. "I'll wash dishes, mop, haul trash. Anything. Full time." The owner looked him over. He took in the sunken eyes, the stringy hair, the worn Carhartt pants. Frankie waited for the flinch. It came. "Kitchen's small," the owner said. "Customers see the back sometimes." He did not finish the thought. He did not have to. Frankie's face went hot. "So it's a no." The owner shrugged and turned back to the grill. "Nothing here for you." Frankie walked out through the dining room. Anna saw his face and reached for his arm. He kept moving. He could not look at her, not after that. Outside, the diner's timeworn sign creaked above him. He stood on the gravel and breathed. The town had run out of doors. He had knocked on every one. Then Anna came out the front door, apron still on. "Frankie. Wait." He stopped. "I heard," she said. "He's a fool." She took both his hands. "There's work no one in town will touch. Up on the ridge. The old man with the cave lost something valuable. A stolen amulet. He's paying real money to whoever brings it back." Frankie stared at her. Work no one else would take. That was work made for a man like him. "It's supposed to be dangerous up there," Anna said. "Spooky. People don't come back the same." Frankie squeezed her hands. "Then it's mine."