Perspicuous (J.HALE)

15

I stared at the flyer taped up on the window, wrinkled and coffee stained.

Server wanted, part-time or full time. Ask at the counter for details.

It caught my eye on my way in to collect dinner; Meg hadn't felt like cooking. It didn't say anything about wage rate or shift times, but I was intrigued. The bell on the door jingled when I opened the door and the smell of coffee and donuts hit me in a wave as I stepped inside.

The classic booth with red leather seats lined the windows and smaller tables filled the space between them and the long, shiny counter. Neon signs were hung on the wall above clanking coffee machines and a small window into a chaotic kitchen, and a silver bell let out a shrill ding as a stained hand clapped down upon it.

"Order up!" a gruff voice called, and a girl in a short, yellow dress with an apron around her waist whisked the plate away and over to a table in the corner.

I approached the counter, searching for someone to talk to, before jumping out of my skin.

An older man popped up from under the counter, dirty tea towel slung over his shoulder and greying hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. His wrinkled face was worn but kind, and his eyes were bright.

"Oh, sorry, darling—didn't mean to scare you," he sang, offering me the widest smile I'd ever seen. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm collecting an order for Clarke," I said, catching my breath and returning his smile.

He looked a little confused for a moment. "You with Meg, kid?"

I nodded. "I'm her niece."

He smiled. "Coming right up, hon—give me one minute."

He disappeared through some swing doors into the kitchen, a myriad of raised voices and clattering following. I glanced down at the menu laid out on the counter just for something to do.

"Coffee?"

I looked up to see a server standing a little to my right watching me, coffee pot held aloft in one hand and a cup in the other.

"Oh, no, thanks," I said, smiling at him. "Picking up something to go."

He nodded at me. "No problem."

He was young, blonde with a childlike face, broad-shoulders and thick arms. He looked a little out of place in a yellow shirt and red apron, like a father forced to play dress up by his children, and he didn't remove his eyes from me for a long while.

I looked back at the menu.

"You new in town?"

"Not really," I said. "Been here over half a year."

His eyebrows raised a fraction. "Haven't seen you around."

I looked at him. "I'd find it hard to believe you knew everybody in Forks."

He shrugged. "It's a close community. You'd be surprised."

"Right," I said, nodding.

"Here we are," the old man announced as he emerged from the kitchen, holding out two white paper bags toward me. "Three burgers, three fries, two donuts."

The server smirked at me. "Hungry?"

"What do I owe you?" I said to the man, digging out my wallet.