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Her voice now an octave higher and her eyes now wider than James
thought possible, she sang out, “Thanks James,” as she skips
away.
Sammy's Diner had become a safe haven for James- his self inflicted
isolation from the terrors of the outside world. It was rare that
more than four of the ten tables in Sammy's were occupied so it was
usually quiet. With no television, James Parker could relax and enjoy
a mediocre cup of black coffee.
But the trips became more frequent and more enjoyable when Janice
started working there. She was nice to him and had a kind smile that
reminded him of his late friend, Elaine. Quickly, Elaine became the
closest thing to family he had left; she offered to buy him breakfast
every day, and he refused, knowing she had to support her two
children by herself.
Today, James was tired and on his second cup of coffee when Janice
brought him the New York Times:
Missouri
Loves Company:
Governor Lisa Nordstrom of Missouri declared Martial Law in Kansas City after
the
celebratory
riot leaves dozens dead or wounded.
“Anything
interesting today, James,” she asked, setting down a third cup of
coffee.
There was a chip in the porcelain. “No more than usual,” he said
as he forced a smile. “Apparently the Chiefs winning the Superbowl
is a cause for chaos.”
“Hon,
when are you gonna stop reading all that and start focusing on all
the good things in life?”
He
set the newspaper down and looked around the diner. There was a
middle-aged couple sitting by the window. The woman, who earlier
today, tried to cover up a black eye with make-up was looking down at
her food in silence. The clean-shaven business man stared at her and
tried to rest his hand on her's. With more of a reflex than an actual
denial, her hand jerked away from his and hid under the table.
Across
from those two was a homeless woman with a cold bowl of free oatmeal,
courtesy of Janice, muttering to herself about the book of
revelations and the end of all time. With no top teeth, and rotting
bottom ones, her breath travels to the table next to her where a
family is too distracted to notice the acrid stench.
The
young boy switches between texting and playing portable video games
while the mother would sneak shots of whiskey into her morning coffee
in order to dull the reality of her life. The father, willingly
oblivious to his family's problems, flirts with the only other
customer in the diner- a thirty-four year-old woman wearing a low cut
shirt to display her seven-thousand dollar breasts.
Both
the old man and his waitress watched as the woman wrote down her
number, walked over to the family's table and reached past the mother
to drop the paper on the man's lap. Her voice rings out in his head,
Why don't you focus on the good things in life?
The old man's beaten eyes find the optimistic ones perched on each side of Janice's nose, “When I start seeing them.”
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