The Critic

"The old place was better."

His judgement was swift and final... Although he had more to say.

"They used to have a gambler's breakfast for only a dollar."

The equivalent was on the late night menu, but he had opted for an open faced turkey sandwich with mashed and gravy. He couldn't have ordered it at 3 A.M. 5 years before.

His companion stared down at the table top, not listening.

I was listening as the review continued, looking across the room at decor transformed from his late-lamented greasy spoon.

"And those seats," turning his gaze to a feature more typical of lobbies than cafes, hexagonal and ringed by small tables, "Can you imagine having to sit beside a stranger while you eat?"

He wore an old promo t-shirt from a casino down the street... Torn around the neck... Straining to cover middle-aged spread, like his comb-over struggled with his scalp.

"You used to be able to get in & out in 20 minutes at the counter."

You mean sitting shoulder to shoulder with a stranger while you eat?

"The old place was better."

His food arrived. Open faced turkey sandwich with mashed and gravy... Disappearing rapidly.

He could still make it in 20 minutes.