The Diner Lunch

My father and I were sitting in our usual diner. The bearded host gave us a booth seat with a view of Route 18. Nice.

The staffing is limited as today is MLK day. I believe they forgot (or wanted to forget) that we hadn’t ordered.

My father gets a turkey burger with rice on the side, sans horrid coleslaw, and I a grilled chicken salad. I try to divert my eyes from the congealed balsamic dressing.

My father is relaying his boss’s money-making schemes and ideas as I look out onto the bustling highway, thinking about what this year can offer. Hopefully more than this dressing.

 

Prompt from the Weekly Writing Challenge

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