Death of the All Night Diner

Equal opportunity offenders walked on eggshells.  Looked for opportunities to please themselves.   Hid from overly sensitive souls.

How did they find room for all that hate in their hearts?

Save the planet.  Save the planet.  Who were we saving it for?  A generation that didn’t appreciate what they already had?  Look what happened to newspapers printed on real paper.

A mother shushed her baby daughter with a bite of pancake.

At another table, a family clad in sports paraphernalia, planned the day’s events.

Across the room, an older gentleman with silver-rimmed glasses, sat alone.  His gray hair and round face, lost in an ocean of senior citizens.

“Two eggs over easy, whole wheat toast, a side order of grits, and black coffee,” Arthur  ordered from the pleasant, middle-aged waitress.

Waves of loneliness bubbled up from within.  Arthur’s calloused hands rested, firmly clasped on the table top.  Nothing was ever the same after the death of the all night diner.