Sunday Storytime #2

The Waitress

He watched her pour the coffee. The steam rose from the lip of the customer's cup to meet the sunlight streaming through the window. She moved to the next table. He loved the way her fingers trembled as she wrote the orders down. This was just one of the idiosyncrasies he had noticed about her. She seemed nervous.
His toast and jam was finished. She turned and looked his way...looked directly into his eyes...directly into his soul. The stained five dollar bill he pulled from his pocket fell to the floor. As he bent to pick it up he heard an angel's voice.
"Do you need some help with that, sir?"
He grunted an affirmation and walked out of the diner.

***

Her hand hit the snooze button alarmingly hard. She rolled back into her covers and buried her face in the pillow.

***

His change cup was nearly full. He'd never seen so many generous people. He had already lined the inside of his sock with several dollar bills. The cold winter air seemed a little warmer as he turned his face up to the sun. This was a great day.

***

"Shut up!" She swung her hand toward the bedside table. The shriek of the alarm stopped. 'Thank God,' she thought. She rolled over for one last cat nap before starting her day.

***

"You look awfully cold, sir." He was shocked...usually men dressed in expensive business suits walked right past him without even acknowledging his existence.
"Here...let me buy you a coffee." He watched the suit pull a crumpled bill from his pocket and deposit it in his cup. This really was a great day.

***

Her feet hit the floor. The blankets followed. She shuffled toward the bathroom, turned on the faucet and stepped into the tub. The hot water felt incredible running through her hair and over her face. She turned her face up to the shower head and rinsed her mouth before stepping out of the shower. 'I hope work isn't busy today,' she thought, reaching for a towel.

***

She walked up to his table, already knowing what he was going to order. She had never seen him before, but there was something...
"Toast and jam, sir?" she smiled, writing as she spoke.
His eyes met hers, sending a vicious chill up her spine. She could feel him watching her as she made her rounds. She was used to being stared at, but this time was different...this time was uncomfortable. She didn't want to look at him. She couldn't stop herself. Her head turned...her eyes found his table...found his eyes.
Her legs seemed to move on their own as she walked toward him, coffee pot in hand. She watched as he slid out of the booth. His hand trembled as he pulled a crumpled bill from his pocket...he dropped it.
"Do you need some help with that, sir?" She didn't understand what he said, but he was gone before she could ask for clarification. He looked familiar somehow.
She picked up the stained five dollar bill, looking through the window from where she stood. She watched the back of his jacket move into the street. Her legs were moving again, much faster this time. Her arm reached out before her and flung the door open.
She watched the truck come screaming around the corner...it swerved, but it was too late. There was a dull thud among the screeching tires and breaking glass - it was the grill of the truck hitting his body. His shoes flew through the air...a few dollar bills floated to the pavement.
She knew he was dead...but she also knew he was supposed to die. It was ok.
She turned and walked back into the diner, wondering who she would dream of that night.

END

Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger

As always thoughts, comment and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!