Wondering if the processor comes off as nasty as I'd hoped.
“Next!” the processing clerk barked. She tugged at her surgical mask and winced. The mandatory mask did little to hide her snarl as she snapped at the thin woman who stood before her. “Your form is for two adults and two children. Where's the other adult?” Her answer was faint and meek. “My husband couldn't come. We were at the hospital when they delivered the forms. He broke his leg and had to have surgery. He, he's home now, but he's bedridden.” The woman behind the desk scowled and furiously scribbled through the man's information. “Listen, lady. My face is raw from this damn mask, and I ran out of patience a long time ago! I'm sick of you people not following the rules!” She thrust an ID at the young mother approved for one adult and two children. “No! No! This isn't fair!” The frail woman swooned, steadied herself on the table, and pled between ragged gasps of breath. “Please, ma'am, we won't have enough food! And my husband — he needs medicine. He's in terrible pain! An infection will kill him!” The processor leaned in, rested her palms on the corners of the table, and pursed her lips into a pout. Then she tilted her shoulders from side to side and whined as she mocked the pleading tone of the desperate woman. “Then get a letter from the doctor and come back.” She rolled her eyes and ignored the woman's pleas. “Next!”