"What? Nolan?"
The thought slammed into Mark's mind.
"Hey! You lame waiter! Daydreaming here!" a sharp whisper from the catering crew captain came as he roughly nudged Mark's shoulder, shattering the storm of thoughts in his head. "Take your drink tray to the main dining area right now! The guests are starting to arrive. Don't move so slowly, and be careful not to spill any glasses!"
Mark jolted. He bowed his head deeply, hiding his face and puffy eyes in the shadows cast by the dim hall lights.
"Yes, sir," he whispered hoarsely.
Dragging his throbbing right leg, Mark slowly made his way toward the exclusive round-table section in the front row.
From this close distance, Mark could clearly hear Nolan's calm baritone voice as he responded to congratulations from a senior minister.
