Trip gone wrong. 750(min) - 800(max) words.

My interpretation: Trip to the front to serve a customer.
wc: 782
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A noodle ship is a great place for therapy.

Tsang worked hard to make the environment welcoming and relaxed and he thought he had finally succeeded.

The little bell strung above the door let out a chime as a new customer entered his humble noodle shop. Tsang quickly wiped his floured hands onto his yellow apron and walked around the counter towards them with a smile, weaving around a server and picking up a child's toy along the way. His business was doing well; his father would be proud.

When he finally got to the front, he cleared his throat, "Hello! Welcome to Tsang's Golden Noodles! Today's special is shrimp dumpling with egg noodle! How may we help you?"

The woman looked around with a lazy gaze, taking in the chipped wooden tables and chairs, the quietly buzzing chatter of the other customers and the sounds of dishes being washed in the back. She took her time and Tsang looked at her puzzled. "Hi Miss? Can we help you?"

She lifted a wrinkled hand and gestured for him to come closer, then she whispered in his ear, "I know where he is."

Tsang looked at her confused again. Perhaps this lady was mistaking him for someone else. He looked at her with sympathy because she reminded him of his own grandmother, "I'm sorry... where who is? I think you might-"

She suddenly grabbed his wrist and jerked him towards the door, with an unexpected amount of strength. He yelped at her tight grip but didn't struggle because he feared breaking her frail bones and hurting her. "Come with me," she said.

The chatter stopped and everyone stared at the lady.

He stopped and refused to move while pleading with his eyes for someone to call the police. Then he turned to face the lady, "No! Why would I... who are you? Let go!" Tsang panicked when he felt her grip tighten even more and then saw a glimpse of what she held in her other hand; a gun.

She leaned up to whisper in his ear, "Come. Or I shoot." She shot a look around the room, to the girl who's toy he picked up.

Tsang wished he knew how to handle the situation but fumbled for an appropriate response. He just knew that if he didn't diffuse it quickly, his restaurant would never see business again.

His father's advice echoed in his head.
Do your best and everything will follow. Keep a calm mind.

Tsang just wanted to help another customer enjoy a good bowl of noodles; what did he do, to deserve being taken by a crazy stranger?

So he tried to hold tightly onto his own fear and said, "Tell me about him," as calmly as he could while being aware of the gun.

She looked surprised, and her grip loosened a bit around his thin wrist.
"Qin is a good boy. He loves horses." She paused and took another look around and he realized that it was as if she was somewhere else while she stood inside his noodle shop. "He loved horses and farms and he loved food. He ate so much more than we could provide. I told him... I told him that we couldn't afford him, if he continued he would have to go and find food somewhere else and so he did." Tears ran over the wrinkled curves of her cheeks as she continued and the other patrons watched, a few waved for the bill and servers inched around them slowly to continue business. While some of his customers were leaving, most of them went back to eating. "He ran away from home. My Qin..."

Tsangs heart aches for her and he gently patted her hand and asked, "Would you like to sit down and talk?" While slowly walking towards the closest empty table. She nodded and shuffled with him into the chair finally letting go of his wrist. He discreetly rubbed it while pulling out his own chair.

The customers picked up where they left their food and business commenced as normal. She tucked her gun into a small flowered purse that he hadn't noticed and held it tightly in her lap, eyes never straying from his face. He made sure to hold eye contact and prompted her. "Was he your son...?"

She chuckled, "Yes, he was my son."

They spoke about Qin for nearly an half an hour and he missed his shift. Luckily he was the boss now. It was easy to forgot that she held a gun in his shop at all.

Father I hope you understand. It was worth it.

A noodle shop is a great place for therapy.