The second "Golden Fry" day landed on a bright, breezy morning that smelled like rain long before any cloud bothered to show. Mcronald's had its shutters up early, flour bowls set, oil gently warming, buns stacked in tidy pyramids, and the chalkboard outside redone in Lyra's neat hand:
TODAY ONLY — GOLDEN FRY SPECIAL
Crispy. Juicy. Gone when it's gone.
Riko rehearsed his greeting behind the counter like a swordsman running forms. "Welcome to Mcronald's! Burgers? Fries? Or the special?" Maddy rolled her eyes fondly and checked the chicken sacks a third time, tapping them like a drummer to feel the cold through the paper. Inigo adjusted the fryer flame and watched for that shimmer he'd learned to trust more than any thermometer in this world.
Lyra leaned her elbows on the pass, chin in one hand, watching foot traffic gather on the plaza. "We'll sell out in an hour," she said.
