The sprayer soaked my apron.
My hands became stiff and sore.
By lunchtime, my fingers were swollen.
Through the little window between the kitchen and dining room, I watched Madison struggling.
She gave Dale scrambled eggs instead of over-medium.
Put butter on Ed’s toast.
And didn’t know that the Miller boys were supposed to get chocolate milk.
Around noon, she came into the kitchen.
“Bev, table four keeps asking for their usual. What’s their usual?”
“Who’s sitting there?”
“Two older ladies. One has a purple hat.”
I smiled.
“Marlene and Bonnie. Two coffees. One black, one with cream. Warm cinnamon rolls. Extra frosting on both, even though Marlene claims she doesn’t want any.”
Madison stared.
“How do you remember all of that?”
I shrugged.
“Thirty-eight years, sweetheart.”
***
At three o’clock, I finished my shift.
As I walked toward the time clock, I saw Ed Kessler sitting on stool three.
