How he was able to fit into the booth we don’t know. But he was able to cramp his six foot frame inside the cubicle, sitting sideways, his legs pressed together. He was wearing a leather hat, pressed on the sides, with a black ribbon around it. He reminded me of cowboys I saw in the movies. His blue and red checkered shirt was matched with dark colored jeans and patent leather boots.
I wasn’t paying attention to him at first until he turned his back on me and adjusted his jeans, his butt on my face. David and I who were sitting next to his table looked at each other with meaningful stares. All he needed was a strap around his waist and a pistol. And O, don’t forget the horse.
It was Saturday and the little diner in the city was busy. The smell of coffee and toast filled the air. There was homely atmosphere in the place and people talked and laughed as if it they were just at home. The man must be a regular guest in the place. He talked with the waitress with warmth, calling out her name when he needed something. He ordered his breakfast. However, as he was waiting for his meal he called on to the girl to get him a cheese cake with cherries on top. He reminded the girl to put on the whipped cream.
David and I were just starting with our meal when the man’s pie arrived. It was a generous piece topped with whipped cream the size of my fist. He cut through the pie with calculated movement that by the time we finished our toast he was licking the cherry sauce off his fork. The pie was gone in an instant.
He sipped his coffee like a cowboy who just finished a mission. He had two cups before his meal arrived, which consisted of two slices of meatloaf with gravy, hash brown, scrambled eggs and four pieces of toast. We cannot help but stare at him when he ate his meal. Not because we were envy but with the precision he took when eating his meal. He spared not a minute while eating. He took a slice of the meat and ate while constantly looking at a heavy-set man sitting at the bar stool nearby. He stared at the 400-pound man, who was talking loudly to another person, with charming eyes. One could see clearly those eyes through the thick lenses he was wearing. We were wondering what he was thinking about when he ate his meat while looking at the heavy-set man whose belly sagged down to his knees.
David and I were finishing up our plate when our cowboy neighbor asked the waitress to refill his cup with coffee. The meal was gone. He ordered another slice of apple pie ala mode. We were wondering if he has a black hole in his belly for he was a 50-year-old man with a six foot frame but his weight is compatible with his height. He didn’t have any difficulty coming out of the cubicle. He paid his bill and went out of the diner, walked like a cowboy who is off on a mission.
I wasn’t paying attention to him at first until he turned his back on me and adjusted his jeans, his butt on my face. David and I who were sitting next to his table looked at each other with meaningful stares. All he needed was a strap around his waist and a pistol. And O, don’t forget the horse.
It was Saturday and the little diner in the city was busy. The smell of coffee and toast filled the air. There was homely atmosphere in the place and people talked and laughed as if it they were just at home. The man must be a regular guest in the place. He talked with the waitress with warmth, calling out her name when he needed something. He ordered his breakfast. However, as he was waiting for his meal he called on to the girl to get him a cheese cake with cherries on top. He reminded the girl to put on the whipped cream.
David and I were just starting with our meal when the man’s pie arrived. It was a generous piece topped with whipped cream the size of my fist. He cut through the pie with calculated movement that by the time we finished our toast he was licking the cherry sauce off his fork. The pie was gone in an instant.
He sipped his coffee like a cowboy who just finished a mission. He had two cups before his meal arrived, which consisted of two slices of meatloaf with gravy, hash brown, scrambled eggs and four pieces of toast. We cannot help but stare at him when he ate his meal. Not because we were envy but with the precision he took when eating his meal. He spared not a minute while eating. He took a slice of the meat and ate while constantly looking at a heavy-set man sitting at the bar stool nearby. He stared at the 400-pound man, who was talking loudly to another person, with charming eyes. One could see clearly those eyes through the thick lenses he was wearing. We were wondering what he was thinking about when he ate his meat while looking at the heavy-set man whose belly sagged down to his knees.
David and I were finishing up our plate when our cowboy neighbor asked the waitress to refill his cup with coffee. The meal was gone. He ordered another slice of apple pie ala mode. We were wondering if he has a black hole in his belly for he was a 50-year-old man with a six foot frame but his weight is compatible with his height. He didn’t have any difficulty coming out of the cubicle. He paid his bill and went out of the diner, walked like a cowboy who is off on a mission.
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