A Quiet Man
I have fallen in love with a quiet man. He never speaks, just sits in the same diner booth, motions for a cup of coffee and reads the newspaper. I have always brought him the prime roast beans, but I had a feeling he doesn’t care if I served him watered dredges. He only always drinks it half way through anyway. His entire concentration is on reading the newspaper. He sifts through it all from front page to last. Then, two or three hours later, he will leave ten dollars, more than enough to cover for the coffee and a big tip. Once I have tried giving him some change, but he only waved my offering away. That was the one time I saw him smile at me, and it changed me. It made me look forward to something in the day. Waitressing is a dull job and only pays as well as the next tip. Some days, I get all misers who would only leave a penny or none at all. But I could always count on the quiet man to come in around 2 o’clock – just after the lunch hour rush and a while before the te