Burnt amber glow hides beneath thick ash, opaque smoke rising in a sinuous fashion toward the stained ceiling. Lucky Strike: dollar twenty-five a carton. Its reflection distorted in the glass ashtray—oblong and blurred. Saccharine and miasmic odors saturate the air. Ashen trail follows the slow implacable burn. Herbert observes this carefully. Intervention is contemplated. Caramel brown coffee remains at a simmer. White toast, eggs over easy, slightly burnt bacon: Sunrise Surprise: two dollars and fifteen cents: are set before him in a plain white ceramic plate. Someone uses maple syrup. Herbert can smell it. A conversation about I Led Three Lives: “They are imbedded.” “How?” “They just are. It’s based on true stories. Philbrick is real.” “How ‘bout that?” Indeed. Herbert hears every word. “What about this weather we’re having, though.” Indeed! The burnt remains of Lucky Strike bend and sections fall off into the tray. Half the cigarette turned to ash. A withered carbon copy. Skeletal. Morbid. Herbert observes. He has green eyes, though in the reflection of the ceramic plate they are off-white. Interesting concept: off-white. Herbert wishes his coffee was drinkable without worrying about burning his lips—possibly resulting in blistering and bleeding, potential emergency room visit, which means insurance, which means bills, which means money, which means work, which means long hours, which means get home late, which means little sleep, which means… he forgets after that. Small child with cream yellow hair ties—blending with her natural hair—kicks the counter in front. Vibrations undulate through the wood and aluminum. Herbert’s fork (with soap residue) shakes after each impact. The child’s parent reads the paper. Advances Make American Lives at Ease. Keys to Superiority: Production and Consumption at All-Time Highs. “Pinks Rampant in Colleges.” Pigtails continues to kick the counter, humming as she does. Is Herbert the only one who notices? Meredith the waitress passes by without a word. The others around him eat and drink and read and talk without a hitch. Are they not aware? Impossible. Indeed! Her blonde hair flopping with every jerk of her feet, her face covered in hardening syrup as she ingests more pancake saturated with the thick sweet liquid; her nails a pastel robin egg—matching the seat covers of the diner. Look at her go, indefatigably forth with no regard for her surroundings. Is no one else aware? The ember of the cigarette snaps and falls into the glass tray. Herbert stares at the cigarette, the child, Lucky, Pigtail, Sunrise Surprise, Black with Two Sugars and One Cream, Man with the Aloha Shirt, General Electric, Ford, Fork, Time?, Time, Secretary Wilson In Color!, Coca-Cola, Classic, Girl in the Poodle Skirt and Saddle Shoes, Fedora, Hotpoint Range, automatic Thrift Cooker for deep-fat frying, food freezer, twin-fan ventilator, triple-whip mixer with accessories, sandwich grill, waffle iron, automatic coffee maker, automatic toaster, lighted push-buttons, automatic timer, super Cal-Rod unit, fast, efficient, high-speed broiler, endearing porcelain finish, Homburg, Douglas, Roc xx, Roc00-1000, Corporal, Aerobee, Wac B, Bumper Wac, Honest John, Nike, Sparrow, donuts, French fried potatoes, cheese balls, silver dollar hamburgers, cherries jubilee, Sweater Girl, nylon, Panti-Legs, thin legs, great knees, bullet bra, Casio, Sperry, Trilby, and Meredith looks at him with the pot of coffee hovering over his already full cup and her lips moving—how could he have not noticed this before? “Hmm?” Herbert says. The cigarette. Meredith. “I asked if you were okay. Doesn’t look like you’ve touched your food. Usually you’re on your second cup by now. Are you feelin’ okay? Everything okay?” Cigarette. Ash. Eggs. Coffee. Meredith. Disappointment. Work. Hours. Banality. Depression. Fantasy. Sex. Depravity. Nuclear. Family. Nuclear. War. Nuclear. Holocaust. Death. Pigtails. Aluminum. Stocks. Up. Modernity. Achieved. Life. “Perfect,” Herbert tells her. Meredith walks away with a cautious smile. Yes. Herbert shovels some of the eggs into his mouth and slurps down his hot coffee. Everything is just so perfect. And he knows this. Herbert is fully aware, all too aware.
