One Sausage

My breakfast arrived and there’s one sausage on it. Before even thinking about complaining I lifted the bacon with my knife, It was a reflex action, just to check. There was no way a sausage could be under the bacon. Unless it was flat and that’s not how a sausage is. A sausage is defined by its shape. So although it was very unlikely to be under there I still checked because what I was seeing was so wrong it was hard to process. I even looked around, I don’t know why, I didn’t think I’d see it just floating there. I went up to Paulo and said, not accusational or anything, lightly, matter of factly, “one sausage?” He wiped his hands on his apron and looked at the plate, clearly untouched and then he shouted at Rui.
“One sausage!” He shouted and Rui who despite being busy came over and looked at the plate  with a facefull of dawning confusion and he shook his head and looked up at Paulo. They’re both the same height, pretty much, but Rui had been bending over to get a good look at my breakfast. Perhaps he’s short-sighted. Paulo pointed at the plate and then said something in foreign to Rui. Rui shrugged. Paulo turned  back to me and rolled his eyes. I stood at the counter, it would be pointless sitting down as I didn’t have a complete breakfast and I didn’t intend to start eating it before it was whole.  Paulo was taking orders and so I moved aside and stared at the TV screen showing Portuguese news. I didn’t understand any of it. A few moments later Rui brought another sausage and put it on my plate. I now had two, the correct number but Rui still eyed the plate with suspicion as I lifted it, perhaps thinking the sausage might vanish again. “Cheers, Rui,” I said. I pronounce his name Roy. Paulo says it different. It was no biggie really but fucking hell, one sausage! The breakfast was awesome, as always. Too big if anything but I made sure I finished the sausages because of the scene I’d made.
That night while going through the motions of cleaning the kitchen area, the light brown tiled floor, Rui discovered a sausage that looked like it had been cooked that day. It was sideways and tight up against the bottom of the counter, in the shadows. He waved it at Paulo with a relieved expression on his face. He wasn’t going mad.