Teddy was already there. He usually was. Same stool. Same posture. Same way of sitting like he might have to get up fast - like he didn’t fully trust being comfortable. Bob didn’t ask. Didn’t need to. They were going through their daily routines. The bell over the door jingled. Teddy clocked it without turning. Habit. You always look. You just don’t always look . He knew who it was. He always knew. “…hey,” he said, not turning around. Marshmallow slid onto a stool. Not next to him. Not far either. “Hey, Teddy.” That was it. That was how they did it. Teddy nodded like that was enough conversation to last a while. He picked at a napkin. Folded it. Unfolded it. Put it back. Bob greeted Marshmallow as he moved. “Hey, Mellow.” He set Teddy’s plate down. “One burger of the day,” he muttered. Then, a beat later, another plate a couple stools over. “Made extra,” he said. “Don’t make me explain it.” Marshmallow looked at it. “Thank you, Bob.” He shrugged like it anno...
Short stories, essays, ramblings, musings, and other such nonsense.