All-night Diner

Two friends meet for coffee.

A disheveled, haggard man bundled in a thick coat shuffled with head down into the shabby all-night diner, sliding into the first booth his downcast eyes lit upon. When the waitress came, he muttered a request for coffee without looking up. The waitress sneered slightly at his bent head then left. Some minutes later the man's friend, tall and dressed in clothes he didn't seem entirely comfortable in, came in and sat at the man's booth. He looked worriedly at the man buried in his coat for a minute but smiled brightly at the waitress, who enthusiastically took his order for coffee and pie, and walked away with a vivacious grin. "I'm sorry I didn't come," said the man, still not looking up. His friend stayed silent. Then, with what seemed a supreme effort, the man raised his head and said shyly, "Happy Birthday."

 His friend looked at him sympathetically and said, "You don't have to apologize. Just tell me what's wrong. I haven't seen you in four months. Have you found another job yet?" The man grimaced. "I'll take that as a no,"  said his friend. "Are you broke?" The question turned the atmosphere thicker and the man felt as if he were struggling through gauze to speak.

 "That's all that matters, isn't it," stated the man at last without affectation, as if it were an immutable law. His friend shrugged.

 "What is?"

 The man's eyes wandered to the ceiling. "Isn't it amazing, just awe-inspiringly pathetic, that that's all that really matters to us--when you look at a picture of earth from space I mean?" he wondered aloud.

 "I suppose it is," answered his friend disinterestedly, glancing at the waitress that approached with the coffee and pie. He now realized the man was talking about money and he never paid much attention to these philosophical digressions. The waitress set the coffee down shakily, spilling some on the table and making him frown. She left extra napkins but did not attempt to clean the spill. "Great place you come to here," expelled the friend sarcastically after she left. The man methodically added one small container of cream and two packets of sugar, then stirred three times and drank as he watched his friend take a bite of pie.

 "It's stale," he declared, pushing the plate away. When this small tumult was over and the table quiet again, he said, "Look, I know things are bad right now for you but they'll get better, and you'll find a job."

 "All that doesn't matter anymore. It never did."
 "Of course it matters."
 "I'm tired."
 "Everyone's tired."
 "No. I'm tired of this whole business, of life. I'm tired of waking up every day. It's so damn exhausting, man. Haven't you ever thought about it? Really considered it? I mean, I never agreed to any of this, and its become apparent that either I'm crazy or everyone else is."
 
 The man's friend looked nonplussed. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, shaking his head. "You just need to get working again, then everything will be back to normal." He reached across the table and squeezed the man's shoulder.

 The man realized then that it was the gesture of diseased solidarity an innocent prisoner would give to another when on the verge of total synaptical collapse. Flickers of desperation shown in his friend's eyes, held in check by the warm smile he now gave which frightened the man to his core because there were millions more that carried that same smile. There wasn't real help or understanding in it, just an emptiness. And why should the abyss be some removed horror after all? It could be anything and anywhere, even on an open, empathetic face. The man began to shake beneath the hand on his shoulder.

Reviews

[roarke]

all night diners are great places to observe or stage intimate drama's and strange fictions. I enjoyed the setting, and the two characters, but I think you should identify the two characters in ways other than "the man" and "the friend" anonymity doesn't have to be generic. At the end, reference to concentration camps seems to come from left field, did the man survive a concentration camp? Did he know or lose someone in a concentration camp that made it hard for him to enjoy events like birthdays, etc? Something about the concentrations camp might be referenced to in the opening sequences. Just diner food for thought, still some very strong writing.

[Alan B.]

Many thanks for taking the time to review this piece. I wrote this rather quickly while the idea was still fresh in my mind and really couldn't think of names appropriate for the characters, so I wanted to leave it a little open-ended on that front, as if they represented more than just specific people. The reference to the concentration camp was really more of a statement on the type of society they live in--in that its more of a prison than what they want to believe about it. I suppose that the idea didn't get across very well but that's what I was going for. anyway. Thanks again for reading.

[Aidan Cottreau]

I thought that this was really great. You captured their emotions really well and hinted at the truth of their circumstances, but not enough to spoil the shock. The opening paragraph was particularly captivating. The only thing is that the dialogue seems rather fake and at times solely purposed for giving more information rather than an actual conversation the characters would have. Towards the end it gets better, but the dialogue in the second paragraph didn't feel realistic, and its the harsh reality of their circumstances that makes the story gripping. Find another way to share the information about the characters and you'll be golden.

[Alan B.]

Thank you for reading a commenting! This was more of a dystopic view of the world now and my take on how people talk and comfort each other and what people value in our society, but I understand where you're coming from. Thanks again for reading.

[Aidan Cottreau]

woah, clearly you're at a whole different level than me xD cool stuff

[Alan B.]

Hehe well, we all have different ways of seeing the world and your writing is just as unique.