The Diner

"Alright, I fed you and gave you dessert, so now it's time for you to answer my questions." The man says to the other across the dirty table.

You can scarcely see the surface of it at all. Heaps of used dishware is placed everywhere with leftover food grime and this makes the man uncomfortable. He lives an organized, clean life, despite being put into unpredictable circumstances from his occupation. He doesn't like messes. He places everything he possesses just so. And no one can touch anything or it will get all ruined. He neatly puts his police badge beside his small notepad and places a sharpened pencil on top of it. Even the handwriting on the paper is precise to his preference. He smoothed his navy blue tweed jacket lapels, tightens his patterned tie, and readjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

The man across from him, however, is the exact opposite. He looks like he hasn't taken a shower in a good week, he sorta smells like it too, and he wears numerous ill-matching layers of clothing. He has on a big, black coat to warm him with that has holes and scratches and stains all over it. Beside him he has a stuffed hiking backpack in the similar condition. His shoes are falling apart and highly discolored with two different shoelaces. His hair is sticking out in every which way. And the man does not desire to know what is underneath those fingernails. The man across from him just shoots him a sharp glare and continues slurping his green Jell-O indecorously.

The detective picks up his pencil and begins tapping it against the pad of paper impatiently. Other than the repulsive noises that are being produced across from him, the poor yellow fluorescent light fixtures buzz above him and there is a light, casual conversation over at the bar.

"Get me somethin' to eat, and I'll answer anything you want." The man had told him at the crime scene.

So he had reluctantly sent him here to the corner diner that wasn't too far away. He had a hard time getting him in here as the owner just about kicked him out, something about him being banned or something, the sign outside said "Shoelace forbidden", he had no knowledge what that meant, but he told the man that he was a detective and was only gathering a witness report. Half an hour passed, and he still required that witness report. The man just about requested everything off the dang menu. And he ate it like hadn't eaten in twenty days, too.

He reads over his few notes he jotted down at the scene and tries to wait for the man to stop eating. He just keeps scarfing it down like he is starving, like he hasn't eaten food off of fifteen other plates. He checks his watch-9:48 P.M. He sighs irritably.

"If you don't slow down, you're gonna-" He begins, but gets interrupted by the expected noises of choking.

The man across from him coughs violently and strives for air. "Yeah...I just need some...water." He begins reaching across the table for the detective's beverage.

"But that's my-" He observes him chugging the entire thing. "Water."

The man breathes a sigh of relief. "Boy that was pretty close." He clears his throat and dries his watery eyes.

"Okay, I'm just gonna start off with my name." The detective begins. "I'm Detective-"

"Ah, you have fed me, but don't you think I need some hydration before we start?" The man interrupts him. "Where can I get a coffee around here?" He looks around and sees a waitress cleaning off some tables. "Hey! Miss! Can I get a coffee?" He asks her loudly. Then to the detective, "You want anything?"

He just sits there; mortified by the way the man was behaving. "No thank you."

"Yeah! Just one coffee please!" He shouts.

The waitress just sighs and goes to the kitchen.

"Alright, I should start off with my name." The detective begins again. "I'm Detective Thomas Williams, but you can call me Tom for just now. I work for the precinct downtown and I'm going to be asking you some questions about the crime you witnessed just moments ago. Alright?"