深夜客栈
TheDineratMidnight-深夜客栈
I＇vebeeninlotsofdiners,andthey＇vealwaysseemedtobewarm,busy,friendly,happyplaces.That＇swhy,onarecentMondaynight,Istoppedinadinerforacupofcoffee.Iwasreturninghomeafteranalldaycartripandneededsomethingtohelpmemakethelasnthesurfaceoftherain-slickparkinglot.Onlyahalfdozencarsandabatteredpickupwerescatteredaroundthelot.Anemptypapercoffeecupmadeahollowscrapingsoundasitrolledinsmallcirclesononecementstepclosetothedinerentrance.Ipulledhardatthebalkyglassdoor,andit
ktobackintheirorangevinylupholstery.Oneachspeckledbeige-and-goldt@bleweretheusualaccessories.Thekitchenhidmysteriouslybehindtwoswingingmetaldoorswithroundwindows.Iglancedthroughthesewindowsbutcouldseeonlyaparttothelarge,apparentlydesertedcookingarea.Facin
everalfeetapart,staringwearilyintocupsofcoffeeandsmokingcigarettes.Theirfacessproutedwhatlookedlikedaylongstubblesofheard.Ifiguredtheywereprobablyshiftworkerswho,forsomereason,didn＇twanttogohome.Threestoolsdownfr0mtheworkers,Ispottedathinyoungmanwitha
uple.Theyhadn＇tgottenanyfoodyet.Hewasstaringoffintospace,ldlytappinghisspoonagainstthetable,whileshedrewaimlessparallellinesonherpapernapkinwithabentdinerfolk.Neithersaidawordtotheother.
Finally,afired-lookingwaitressapproachedmewithherthickorder