Connections: Short Story Two

"You're usual Sir?" asked the middle-aged waitress with curly ruby hair, sapphire cotton dress, and starched pearly white apron trimmed by lace. Her emerald eyes accentuated by navy eyeshadow, navy eyeliner, and jet black thick mascara that smudged in the corners of her eyes probably from crying or sweat. "Yes ma'am. How are you Miss Stacy?" He replied sweetly to the waitress. "I'm okay. Just avoiding another day of r&r. The norm." She winked while busing a nearby table. "You mean oppressed, kinky, and yearning?" chuckled a short black haired girl wearing a white tank top and thigh high cut off jean shorts with red high tops. Stacy carefully folded her drying rag into the left pocket of her apron. "That's not lady-like Sherry." glowered Stacy. She regained her composure and smiled innocently for her regular customer. "Sorry about that Mike. She's new and young. These kids these days...geeze what is wrong with this generation huh? I'll be right out with your usual real quick." she apologized embarrassed by her twenty two year old coworker. "No need to apologize. I like the friendly atmosphere here." smiled Mike, clutching his grey pant leg of his new dark gray suit that complimented his dark thickly parted hair. He watched her glide across the diner with ease refilling coffee cups on her way to put in his usual order. Mike ordered the same thing every day at the same time in the same seat. Ever since his first visit he couldn't help but see her again. He fell in love with Stacy's beautiful smile but he couldn't bring himself to ask her out. He was content with the less awkward small talk. Stacy appeared from the kitchen with a tray of food. A cup of tea with honey, Belgian waffles with honey, and hashbrowns. She set the dishes carefully in front of him along with a bottle of smoked Tabasco and Ketchup. He thanked like he usually did. He scarfed the food quickly, feeding his nervous appetite. He stacked his plates awaiting Stacy's return. Stacy caught his glance and walked over to him with his bill in hand. When she looked down at the messy plate, she chuckled and shook her head agreeing to his request. In thick red ketchup letters, the plate asked, "Will you be my Valentine Miss Stacy?"