Chapter 4: The Woman at Table Four
Oddly enough, Joe’s Diner became the closest thing I ever had to stability. Joe barked constantly, but at the end of long shifts he shoved burgers toward me and growled, “Eat before you pass out and make paperwork for me.”
Mrs. Rhode came into the diner every Tuesday and Thursday at exactly eight in the morning.
The first time I waited on her, she squinted at my nametag. “James,” she muttered. “You look tired enough to collapse into my waffle.”
“Long week.”
She snorted. “Try being eighty-five.”
That was our introduction. After that, she always requested my section.
“You ever smile, son?” she asked once.
“Sometimes.”
“I doubt it.”
Another day she stared at my hair and announced, “You somehow look worse every time I see you.”
She wasn’t sweet. Not even close. But she noticed things, and that mattered more than people realize… Continue Reading ⬇️
