The clean silverware is delicately wrapped in its cloth napkin. The sugar packets grind against the splenda, push to the edges of dispenser. There are no spills to sop, no stains to scrub, no tips to collect, no customers to neglect. No gloves forgotten on the green cushion booth. No eggs frying in the kitchen or ice tumbling from the fountain. You can smell the coffee, simmering stale. A fire gasses by the tables. Not but one to warm their toes and fingers. The booth is empty. Place mats and menus set.
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