Chasing Shadows

Chapter 6: Frank Castle

Mia smiles as an old woman, in an orange work dress, set a white mug of hot chocolate in front of her.

The diner looked depressing from the lack of customers. Rain sprays across the windows as roads reminded Mia of thick and heavy oil.

When she was six, she enjoyed stomping on dirty puddles, watching the tears oozing down on her yellow rain jacket.

Chris and Alice would help her make huge mud pies and throw them at each other like kids.

Sighing, Mia drinks her hot beverage and stare at the turkey sandwich on her plate. It had whole wheat bread, cheese, turkey, lettuce, and tomato.

Bitch, she thought, staring at the red fruit. I told her that I don't give a shit about the tomato.

Slowly, she picks up the sandwich, peels off the tomato, and sets it on the white plate.

Another waitress sees this, then walks up to her while the stranger resumed drinking his black coffee.

"What are you doing?"

Mia looks at her unamused.

"Hello, I am just removing the piece of tomato you put on my sandwich."

The stranger spits out his drink and stares at the foulmouthed teenager.

"My apologies," the waitress sighs.

"Do you want the cook to make you a new one?"

"Nope, just dump the shitty tomato in the trashcan and give the plate to me."

Mia hands her plate to the bored female servant, who dumps the fruit in the trash and gives the plate back to her.

As soon as the waitress left to fill old men's orders, the stranger places his mug on the gray surface and looked at her.

"Do you always curse, or is it just your personality?"

"Says the person who watches me climb metal bars."

Mia later notices old food stains on the tables; it seems to her that the cleaning crew didn't bother wiping them down.

Either because the stains are now permanent, or because they were paid less to care.

"Hey, why are you grouchy?" the burly stranger questioned.

Mia looked at him for a moment then swallowed a gulp.

"Nothing."

"It's nothing," he says with a grin.

In front of him is a red mug of black coffee. She wonders how he can drink that stuff without puking.

"Well, Mom, Dad, and I used to come to a dinner whenever we feel in the mood for Rocky Road."

"Really?"

Mia nodded.

"We would get like huge bowls of it and try to make each other laugh. My dad would put his spoon on his nose, and I watch it hang there until it falls off."

The man chuckled at the memory.

"Where's your mother?"

"Dead, so is my father."

"I'm sorry."

That's when Mia shakes her head.

"Don't be apologetic," she says. "I hate that in a person. They say, I am sorry but they don't even mean it."

"Say, for instance, a wife found her husband fucking a stripper in her bedroom. They argue, a stripper gets humiliated and goes back to her den, then what did the husband say?"