In all of 'Palace Point', there existed only a few places where people could hang out. Even then, the places considered to be "hip" were infested by couples in their forties, suffering a joint midlife crisis. The whole town seemed to be built up on old foundations and hadn't bothered to fix those foundations. Where there should have been froyo stands and nightclubs, there existed little souvenir shops filled with poorly made soaps, and bars filled with the kind of dank atmosphere that made people back away instantly.
Truthfully, if you were anywhere under the age of thirty and wanted to go anywhere to hang out in 'Palace Point', you had to muscle you're way to the next town over. Not that the residents minded. They were quite content with living their quiet peaceful lives.
For most, the journey was a short ten minute drive to an old style diner that stood between the borders of 'Palace Point', and the equally quiet 'Caldera'. "Primrose's Old Style Grill" or "Prim's" for short, had made itself the hangout point for may lost souls. Most regulars were high school teenagers who were in between doing things, and an older crowd who simply came here out of necessity.
As for me and Damien, we had found this place in our junior year. Before that point, neither of us had even thought about leaving the still atmosphere we had both grown up in. It seemed as soon as we both hit a certain level of maturity, we had decided that our hometown was too small to actually hold us. Sure, we'd always return, but that was out of a need too.
Entering the diner, the bell chimed. Without hesitation, the patrons turned their heads up to see the new visitor. The place smelled like it always had; burnt coffee and just a hint of cigarette smoke. It was pretty signature to this little slice of urban heaven.
Most people in the diner were quick to turn their heads down as soon as they recognised the face who had just waltzed in. That was what I loved about this place. The people who knew you, did their best to hold their tongue, and those who didn't, didn't try to get to know you.
The only exception to that rule was Hamish. Hamish was one of the regulars who usually worked at "Prim's", often citing his excuse of not being able to do much else. There was an element of truth to that. The copper-haired gentleman might have looked like someone's dream come true, but he made up for that by being unnaturally clumsy and often forgetful to a ridiculous extent. The best part about him though was that he always made you feel welcome.
"Mornin' Newt" he spoke, a trickle of his Canadian roots shining through. "Well afternoon actually, but y'anno, morning as well."
I couldn't help but to smile at him. "Morning slash afternoon to you too big guy." Not breaking focus, I walked across the floor of the diner till all that stood between me and Hamish was the bar counter. "How's work been treating you?"
"Ah, ya know, work's been okay" he rebutted, that sly smirk on his face probably indicating that he was having a decent enough day. "Where's your other half? Don't usually see one without the other" he asked, wiping down the counter. I assumed he'd been stuck to counter duty so he wouldn't make so many mistakes today.
"On his way."
Hamish nodded, a grin curling onto his face. "Should I show ya to your booth then...?" he asked. A laugh rose from my gut as I turned my back from the older man.
YOU ARE READING
Glass Half Full
Teen Fiction"This is a story. A love story. It's a story of a boy who loved his best friend. It's a story of how his best friend loved a girl so much that he was willing to travel across country for her. It's a story of how we were really. Or rather, how w...
