People ask why I stayed. Part of it was money—the diner paid cash late and generous—and part was a curiosity that felt like a fault in my mind I couldn’t flip off. But mostly I stayed because the weeks carved something into me that later, in quiet moments, would replay like a scratched record: the way the animatronics’ faces shifted when someone brought a child to the stage, the way those faces softened and then pinched into a practiced grin when the child left with a prize and a dwindling hope.