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first order of business: breakfast (open to anyone!)
Eugenides discovered one other thing that morning: he didn't like coffee.
His face wrinkled as the bitter flavor swept over his tongue and he set it down on its small plate and pushed everything away from him, sending the tiny spoon clattering out of its place. Its warmth had been extremely welcome to his otherwise cold body but he never took it back.
In the meantime, he straightened his back and looked around. Only an hour ago, he discovered himself to be sleeping on the ground well away from the comforts of his bedroom and hadn't been at the peak of himself since. He was confused, he was cold, he was hungry and his body hurt where the ground met it. The diner (they called it one) had appeared to him seemingly out of the blue and before he knew it, he was stumbling inside, welcomed as the first customer of the day. It was coated in pale cream walls and the empty couches that filled the place were of the same shade, the tables basking in the natural brown of their wood which shined when the early sunlight hit it. Eugenides sat closest to the window parting the street from the interior and he found himself gazing at the brickwork and the cemented road for the sixth time in that hour. A wave of loneliness filled his chest like water in a hollowed space.
"Here you are," a female voice said.
He turned towards the bowl of cream chowder placed before him, bits and pieces of white meat and croutons peeking out the surface and he felt his stomach move at the scent of breakfast.
"It's not much but it's soup of the day!" she said brightly, tray pressed against her skirt. "Always the first thing we finish in the morning. Want some bread to go with it?"
Eugenides nodded to her, looking frail under the weight of his tattered brown cloak. "Yes," he said after.
"Right, I'll get you some," she said with a smile, a nod, and was off.
Eugenides returned his gaze to his background. It didn't take long for the waitress to return with half a bagel on a plate and she smiled to him sweetly again. "Well, eat up! Don't worry about paying, it's on the house."
I can pay, Eugenides had almost told her but decided to keep it to himself as he nodded to her and took up the spoon on the right side of the bowl by his left hand and began to stir his breakfast. Better to keep his money for as long as he can and act as he dressed. It would come as a surprise, after all, if she saw him revealing a healthy wad of bills from his mice-nibbled cloak pocket, both of which he stole from no less than two people in the same hour.
Eagerly, he slurped his breakfast and chewed the chicken meat. Warmth washed over his body and he didn't waste time on taking another sip. Finally, breakfast! Nothing can go wrong with breakfast...
His face wrinkled as the bitter flavor swept over his tongue and he set it down on its small plate and pushed everything away from him, sending the tiny spoon clattering out of its place. Its warmth had been extremely welcome to his otherwise cold body but he never took it back.
In the meantime, he straightened his back and looked around. Only an hour ago, he discovered himself to be sleeping on the ground well away from the comforts of his bedroom and hadn't been at the peak of himself since. He was confused, he was cold, he was hungry and his body hurt where the ground met it. The diner (they called it one) had appeared to him seemingly out of the blue and before he knew it, he was stumbling inside, welcomed as the first customer of the day. It was coated in pale cream walls and the empty couches that filled the place were of the same shade, the tables basking in the natural brown of their wood which shined when the early sunlight hit it. Eugenides sat closest to the window parting the street from the interior and he found himself gazing at the brickwork and the cemented road for the sixth time in that hour. A wave of loneliness filled his chest like water in a hollowed space.
"Here you are," a female voice said.
He turned towards the bowl of cream chowder placed before him, bits and pieces of white meat and croutons peeking out the surface and he felt his stomach move at the scent of breakfast.
"It's not much but it's soup of the day!" she said brightly, tray pressed against her skirt. "Always the first thing we finish in the morning. Want some bread to go with it?"
Eugenides nodded to her, looking frail under the weight of his tattered brown cloak. "Yes," he said after.
"Right, I'll get you some," she said with a smile, a nod, and was off.
Eugenides returned his gaze to his background. It didn't take long for the waitress to return with half a bagel on a plate and she smiled to him sweetly again. "Well, eat up! Don't worry about paying, it's on the house."
I can pay, Eugenides had almost told her but decided to keep it to himself as he nodded to her and took up the spoon on the right side of the bowl by his left hand and began to stir his breakfast. Better to keep his money for as long as he can and act as he dressed. It would come as a surprise, after all, if she saw him revealing a healthy wad of bills from his mice-nibbled cloak pocket, both of which he stole from no less than two people in the same hour.
Eagerly, he slurped his breakfast and chewed the chicken meat. Warmth washed over his body and he didn't waste time on taking another sip. Finally, breakfast! Nothing can go wrong with breakfast...