The phone rang. He thought back to the first time he had come to the diner. It was raining. He and Mica were driving across the state to meet up with some friends to go skiing in the mountains. Mica. He missed being with her. No, he missed her. Her gentle touches, her soft skin, her piercing hazel eyes, her hair. He once told her that her hair smelled like an apricot farm and she took offense. She was mad at him for three days after that. Mica. What had become of her. The phone rang. He looked his watch as if he had somewhere to be, to go. He didn?t. The phone rang.
?Are you going to answer that?? His thoughts disturbed, his attention abruptly shifted to the middle aged, pear shaped black waitress towering over him. She saw him checking his watch. She probably thought he was someone important he thought to himself. He smiled at the thought of someone thinking he was someone important.
?Oh sorry, I didn?t know it was ringing.? As he silenced the cell phone.
?Are you ready?? The menu. It lay neatly folded at the far side of the table. He hadn?t even touched it. He and Mica used to have a usual. He would have steak, potatoes and mixed vegetables, she, a Lorraine Egg Ham Bacon Cheese quiche. Her food often came first. She would always offer him a bite. He always said no. ?Real men don?t eat quiche? he?d tell her.
?I?ll have the Lorraine Quiche.?
?Are you going to answer that?? His thoughts disturbed, his attention abruptly shifted to the middle aged, pear shaped black waitress towering over him. She saw him checking his watch. She probably thought he was someone important he thought to himself. He smiled at the thought of someone thinking he was someone important.
?Oh sorry, I didn?t know it was ringing.? As he silenced the cell phone.
?Are you ready?? The menu. It lay neatly folded at the far side of the table. He hadn?t even touched it. He and Mica used to have a usual. He would have steak, potatoes and mixed vegetables, she, a Lorraine Egg Ham Bacon Cheese quiche. Her food often came first. She would always offer him a bite. He always said no. ?Real men don?t eat quiche? he?d tell her.
?I?ll have the Lorraine Quiche.?
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