THE HEART WANTS by LexG

Herman sat in the plastic green booth, sipping at his shake, alone in the corner.  The ‘70s décor in full Hal Ashby sheen, his horn-rims sliding down his sweaty nose with each sip.

Flo the waitress came by again, more than she needed to, “You okay, Herman?”   A slight dribble of the vanilla shake dribbled onto his long-since faded-and-dated short-sleever.

“Yeah, thanks, Flo.”

She cracked her gum and smiled warmly.  “Okay, hon, just say the word.”

She shuffled off to Buffalo and he sat under the ‘70s-game-room, two-seater booth to himself, alone, alone, also alone.  Meredith had sat on the opposite side for many a low-key post-church lunch, spinning her yarn about Christ-knows-what when he wanted to fucking shoot himself from the echoing walla cacophony of sameness, as he scanned the low-rent vista of the diner imagining the other people getting to fuck their girlfriend in the ass and blow loads, while his big day was a free Steelers cookie.

Whole world of wonder out their beyond the Alcatraz gates, “eat some pussy, eat some ass,.”  Aging to 40, to 50, and yep on to 60, hating church and basically not giving a fuck but being a champ, standing by and supporting, as things faded away, hope faded away, sameness kicked in, true hope gave out, and then things REALLY started to fade away, like for real. 

Now alone. In the booth.  By himself.  Drinking a flat diner shake wanting it all back.  He’d had sex  2 times in 50 years and now was fully impotent.

Herman finished his shake, smiled at Flo as he left a 10 dollar tip, went into the shitbox, pulled out a .38 snub from his ‘Nam days, and blew his fucking brains out.

The couple at the booth next to him went home and the guy drilled the girl in the asshole then came on her back.  The cum ran like Herman’s brain matter on the humming florescent overheads.