A story about a young boy whose father takes him to a diner for a mealtime discussion about life and stuff. Here’s one of my short stories circa 2008:
The waitress came to our table with a pad of paper and a pencil. She wore a white apron and a blue skirt and her hair was brown and short like my mom’s hair. After I said what I wanted and dad said what he wanted and she wrote it all down, she looked at my dad’s face.
“Do I know you from somewheres?” she said.
“No,” he said. “Can you refill my son’s orange juice when you get a chance, please?”
is not an exit 