His stomach growled, and he thought about the crate of oranges in his truck. He loved oranges. Out here in the desert, he ate them almost exclusively. A few times a day he would stop in the middle of nowhere, sit on his tailgate, and eat 3 or 4. This way he didn\u0092t have to carry water or food, he could just eat his oranges. Passersby would sometimes see a neat little pile of orange peels on the side of the road, and you could track him in this manner, if you really wanted to, all the way across the West, by tracking the orange peels from town to town and place to place.
\n
\nNot right now, not this time, he thought. He would wait for the waitress to walk by again, and then ask her for some eggs. It was 6am and the rain had stopped, and the sun had started to peak its head above the horizon. The sky was painted all shades of purple and red and little golden rays arched across the sky, all the way to his caf\u00e9. He loved this time of day, when all the good peoples of the world awoke and began anew. He cracked open the window next to his table to let the cool, rain-swept, clean air in. He breathed deeply. Yes, he wanted eggs.<\/p>\n
The waitress was chatting with a customer at the counter, and she giggled as the patron smiled and made a joke. He tried to make eye contact with her, and once he thought they did, but she looked away, back to her funny friend. He sighed and put those thoughts out of his mind.<\/p>\n
He had sat there all night, with the same cup of cold coffee still sitting in front of him. She didn\u0092t care about him, he thought, she was looking after customers that actually bought something to eat, and might leave a nicer tip. So he forgot about his eggs and once again, looked out the window, across the desert, searching for her.<\/p>\n
He watched a car come slowly down the highway and turn into the parking lot. It was an old black Cadillac, the kind nobody drives any more, except those with exceptional style. The driver\u0092s side door opened, and a tall, older man wearing a black cowboy hat stepped out into the mud. He was dressed sharply, in a black suit with a silver tipped bolero tie. The man dressed in black took a moment to smooth out his mustache, and he brought out a silver pocketwatch, which he stared at intently before putting it away.<\/p>\n
Inside the caf\u00e9 it grew quiet, and everyone turned to watch the man in black make his way to the front door. He opened it, slowly, and walked inside. He rubbed the stubble on his chin while he looked from corner to corner, maybe searching for something or someone. He smiled at the waitress and took a seat at the end of the counter. After a moment, the man dressed in black stood up, and walked over to his table.<\/p>\n
\u0093Is this seat taken?\u0094<\/p>\n
The Ford man looked at him a moment, studying him. Who was this man? Why does he want to sit her? What does he want from me? He was curious about the man in black, and did not feel threatened by his cool, friendly demeanor. His mind raced while he thought of all the possibilities, and consequences of the next few moments. He simply smiled.<\/p>\n
\u0093Of course it isn\u0092t,\u0094 said the man in black. He sat down opposite his new friend and slid all the way over towards the wall in one fluid motion.<\/p>\n
The two men sat there, not saying a word. The waitress brought the man in black a cup of coffee, and scurried away, ignoring the other.<\/p>\n
\u0093You\u0092re not from around here, are ya?\u0094 said the man in black, smiling. \u0093Of course you\u0092re not. Neither am I. Nobody\u0092s from around here, are they?\u0094<\/p>\n
The man with the Ford pickup shifted in his seat, but not uncomfortably. Why was this man here? What does he want from me?<\/p>\n
The man in black took off his cowboy hat and dusted it off, placing it upside down on the end of the coffee table, so as not to alter the crease of the brim. He studied the man across from him while he stirred his coffee.<\/p>\n
\u0093So where\u0092re ya headed?\u0094 the man in black asked. \u0093Hmmm?\u0094<\/p>\n
The man with the pickup rubbed the back of his head and turned to look out the window. The sky was darkening again. It looked like the storm was picking up. It would rain again soon.<\/p>\n
\u0093I see. You look hungry. You want some eggs? Waitress, bring us a couple plates of eggs, and a fresh cup of coffee for my friend here,\u0094 said the man in black. He turned back to his new friend.<\/p>\n
\u0093You look lost, or are you?\u0094 asked the man in black, and just then he laughed, as if he understood. He smiled and said, \u0093 You\u0092re running. So what\u0092s her name?\u0094<\/p>\n
The man with the pickup looked back to the man in black, his face flushed. How would this man know, he wondered? He shook his head and stared at his cold cup of coffee, and began to stir it again.<\/p>\n
The two men sat there in silence for a long while. The man with the pickup occasionally looked up from his cold cup of coffee to the man sitting across from him. The man in black would smile each time, a smile of sympathy and understanding. He knew not to pry further, and let the old conversation die.<\/p>\n
The waitress arrived with a fresh, hot cup of coffee and took away the all-night old cup, and hurried back behind the counter. She turned over her shoulder to observe the two men, and then went back to her work.<\/p>\n
The man with the pickup relaxed, glad for the company. The man in black was calm, confident, friendly.<\/p>\n
\u0093I know what you\u0092re thinking,\u0094 said the man in black. \u0093You\u0092re wondering why I chose to sit here. You\u0092re wondering, how does this man know so much about me? Look at me. Let me look into your eyes. It\u0092s written all over your face. Such a man as myself, well, I can just tell, you know? I\u0092ve been in your shoes. Maybe I\u0092m running myself, hmm?\u0094 he said with a laugh.<\/p>\n
The waitress arrived with their food, and the man in black smiled at her. She relaxed.<\/p>\n
\u0093Can you get you boys anything else?\u0094 When they didn\u0092t answer she turned, and walked back to her funny man at the counter.<\/p>\n
\u0093I love eggs, don\u0092t you? She used to make them for me every now and then. Ah, she was a terrible cook,\u0094 he said, laughing. The jukebox in the corner came on, playing an old Dean Martin tune.<\/p>\n
The coffee was just as bad as last night, and had probably been sitting there the whole time, the man with the pickup thought. The eggs were just as bad, greasy. He didn\u0092t mind. The company was nice.<\/p>\n
They finished their meal without a word. The man in black stood up finally, and smiled to his new friend.<\/p>\n
\u0093This one\u0092s on me, OK? Now I don\u0092t want to hear any argument from ya, so just hear me out,\u0094 said the man in black.<\/p>\n
The man with the pickup turned to look up at him.<\/p>\n
\u0093I know how you feel, I\u0092ve been there, trust me. She left me, and I left town. I ran. I roamed, looking for something, anything, just like yourself. Took a long time, too. Do yourself a favor, OK? Don\u0092t make the same mistakes I did, kid. Leave the past, in the past.\u0094<\/p>\n
Ahe man dressed in black, replaced his cowboy hat upon his had, tipped it, and walked away. He left a 100 dollar bill on the counter, 10 times the cost of their meal.<\/p>\n
\u0093Keep the change, honey,\u0094 he said to the waitress with a wink. And with that, he was gone.<\/p>\n
He watched the classy black Cadillac pull out of the parking lot, and drive away into the distance.<\/p>\n
\u0093Leave the past, in the past,\u0094 he thought, and he stared out the window towards the sky again, and continued to stir his coffee.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
His stomach growled, and he thought about the crate of oranges in his truck. He loved oranges. Out here in the desert, he ate them almost exclusively. A few times a day he would stop in the middle of nowhere, sit on his tailgate, and eat 3 or 4. This way he didn\u0092t have to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_crdt_document":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-172","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-shortstories"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paF8Q-2M","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.teebiss.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/172","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.teebiss.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.teebiss.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.teebiss.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.teebiss.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=172"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.teebiss.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/172\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.teebiss.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=172"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.teebiss.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=172"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.teebiss.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=172"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}