The Diner of Insomnia

My orbs are tired, man. But there's no use in staying in. The Diner calls for me. I hear the sullen sounds of the streets. I'm not surprised to ever happen on a sundry of personalities at this time of night.

A parliament of human owls has descended on this famous night diner. No one really knows each other. Talking is rare. Only to ask for a cigarette or give an order do our voices fill the room.

I sit at a counter with strangers. The counter is the perfect cover. All these minds....lost....why are we here at this moment? She calls herself Minnie Minerva and she's cute. I've been coming in here for months and I found out last night what her name was.

"Who's that?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes and giggles. "Him?"

"Watch him."

The man is dressed in professional attire and places a briefcase on the table and begins to lay out some papers. He shuffles them around and glances at his watch.

I am distracted by the television for a few moments.

Then, I hear him call out to Minnie. "Please hold all my calls" he tells her.

Hold my calls? I wonder to myself.

"Will do, Charles," she answers.

I look at her confused.

She smiles.

A picture of a family suddenly appears. He lays down a phone...with no phone line.

I'm beginning to understand.

Minnie comes over and leans on the counter and says, "It takes all kinds."

I look back at the man.

"See that couple over there?"

"The old couple?" I ask.

"They come in every night at midnight. They order the same thing each time - bagels. He takes blueberry jam while she opts for cream cheese. After the finish eating they doze off sitting up for exactly 3o minutes. At which point I have their dessert ready."

"How come I never noticed them?"

"Because you weren't paying attention. You're so absorbed in your thoughts that all you see are shadows."

The place empties out a little. We say nothing.

Until she breaks the silence. "You know, tramps like us...."

I stare out into the darkened serenity of the night. The street lights reflect from the wet ground. "My piano is out of tune and this cat is hungry," I tell her.

She knows me somehow. "Let it ride its course. Dipsa's are unseen until it is too late. The trick is to avoid its bite," she tells me.

I have no clue what she means.

I ask for the Diner Special.