Diners are stereotypically loud places. It's kind of funny how you only notice that when you enter and when you leave. Some random diner in Rockville Centre. Forum for political discussions, social debates, touchy reunions, messy seperations, stage for adolescent drama.
We all nestled into our corner booth, inspecting a menu identical all across America. She looked at him and he at her and they discussed some hilarious happening from days past. I still searched for surprise in predictability. We soon began a chorus of conversation. All was easy. All our problems drifted away like the steam off a hashbrown.
I theorized that if you are coming off the high of a good weekend then you will be content in the coming week. If i must define a good weekend, it is one where nothing dramatic occurs and you simply enjoy existence. A weekend when you just enjoy living.
Our talk flowed freely from gossip, to books, to friends. As the night slowly came to an end, the clattering flatware and spying waitresses came back into focus. We parted ways, but at the same time we were closer.
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