The Waitress Brings My Sandwich


“Err… Hi, it’s me.”  I awkwardly rephrase, not wanting to lose my only lead.  “How are you?”

“Who is this?”  the voice answers.  “Do you know what time it is?”

I chuckle to her, “Actually, no.  I just woke up.  Kind of.  On a street corner.”

“Great.” A dial tone follows this last communication.

My sandwich comes.  “Dumb, dumb, dumb…” I think as I reflexively sprinkle pepper over the plate.


Before I have a moment to wonder what else might come to me reflexively, a voice breaks my thoughts.

“So, did you have a late night or an early night?”

The man standing in front of my table is scruffy, wearing a comical red leather jacket, and smirking as if he knows something I don’t.

Squinting, I respond, “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

The End

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