The Greyhound stopped at a town on the outskirts of Seattle around the time the sun was setting. Brady, sitting alone in the stiff double upholstered seat was ready to get out and move around. Outside the window he could see a diner, its windows glowing in the early evening, and he thought it looked warm. His feet were cold and his belly was hungry.
He waited until the other passengers disembarked. He sat with his eyes closed and thought about what he would like to eat. Maybe a bloody steak with a side of chili beans. Fries. Chocolate milkshake in a glass with the extra in the metal blender container. A plate of fresh baked cornbread, or rolls with lots of butter. A fat slice of apple pie with a blob of melting vanilla ice cream.
He heard the other passengers talking about their luggage outside the bus and the sound of the compartment thumping open. The driver had announced this stop was forty minutes for unloading. Brady, if he moved fast, could get to the diner before the others. He’d sit at the counter, alone. And maybe think about her and the way she cleared the plates from the table and always brushed the crumbs onto the floor with her tan, firm hands.
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I love the world you create here! It's amazing how fully formed it is, how real - yet you do it in so few words. I love also the ending - the image of the tan, firm hand brushing crumbs onto the floor is absolutely beautiful!
ReplyDeleteI agree. Great world here, I was right there with the bloody steak and the chili. But the last graph was the clincher. Wonderful image choices, Anne. Alone in the diner, and those tan firm hands. My brain was off trying to find a picture of her. Great!
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