Coke

A Story by Sam C. Widera

“Sir, we have to close soon.”

A man sat silent, his back slightly hunched with one leg pressed against the wall, pushing the chair to spin a third way before dragging it back to its original position. White fluorescent lights hung above him, casting an eerie glow, illuminating other rows of vacant tables.

He sipped from a red and white stripped straw, the fizz of the coke momentarily numbing his tongue before dissipating into a sugary aftertaste. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, making a tsk sound before retreating and taking another sip from the can.

The straw itself made the man pause: it was a paper straw. The ones that were marketed with big bolded letters, telling consumers to STAY GREEN and to HELP THE ENVIRONMENT. In his own opinion, telling others to ‘stay green’ was actually an extremely odd thing to say. Why would anyone want to be green? And if they were, they definitely wouldn’t want to stay that way.

Exhaling loudly, he took another sip of the coke. The man wasn’t sure as to why he was drinking coke in the first place, he didn’t like fizzy drinks. The air made him too bloated, giving him an undignified manner of constant burping.

A blonde waitress wearing in a frilly dress, adorned with the same red and white stripes, strutted over. Her heels clacked against the wooden panels of the floor, the man took another sip.

“Sir, we have to close soon.”

The man turned around, one hand holding his coke and the other propping up his head.

“I know.”

The waitress looked confused for a moment, her face was still morphed into the smiley facade she had held onto since the beginning of her shift. Then she gave a soft shake to her head, mascara lustred lashes fluttering before taking a haughty sniff. She spoke again.

“Sir, we really need to cl�"”

A resounding belch suddenly erupted, interrupting the waitress mid-sentence. The burp echoed along the flaking white-painted walls, carrying its scurrilous sound to the outside.

She turned her face slightly away, and the man could see her smile grimacing, her facade slowly being peeled away.

“Excuse me.” said the man loftily.

Never had the waitress ever heard an apology muttered so unapologetically. The man hadn’t even moved from his previous position, still sitting poised in the same nonchalant manner.

Feeling very much annoyed and disrespected, the waitress placed on her biggest smile yet. Her red coated lips were drawn open, the skin on her chapped lips stretched, revealing a set of bleach-white teeth.

“Sir.” The blonde spoke with a tense assertive tone, her eyes bore fire.