It was dark. It was rainy. And yet all around the man lights shone, people bustled around him, and cars raced through the streets. The man wandered aimlessly, going to and fro, from one destination to the next, not going anywhere in particular. Any passerby could tell that he was a man in distress who was very sad and lonely. He was unshaven, his hat on crooked, and walked with a sway as if he was very tired or very drunk. Or both. 

     The man was not always like this, however. He used to be happy. He had a wife, a glorious young woman who cared for and adored him. She made sure he was presentable for all occasions, but those lessons that she had drilled into his mind were all but gone when she died six months ago. She kept his clothes clean, made sure he shaved, walked straight and with a purpose, and always fixed his hat with a small laugh. His wife loved him and he loved her.

     Somehow, through all of his blissless ventures that soaked his shoes and dampened his coat he found himself at a corner diner. Not a diner, but the diner. It looked like something straight out of Nighthawk with its big glass windows and wooden bar. The diner was the first place his wife and he had met. 

     He stared inside thinking of the memories they had there. He saw himself in the reflection of the glass and all he saw was joyless pity. A sad man with no love, no children, and no family. The cars driving behind him cast their big red lights on the window and made shapes that collected together. It almost looks like a head, the man thought, with great red hair. The cars blurred together in the window as well and made a woman's body with a dark coat. And then the car tires, all moving together formed black shoes. Perfectly reflected in the window was his wife, with her fabulous red hair, her dark coat, and her black shoes. She was captured with perfect likeness in the window of the diner. 

     The man started to get emotional. He took short gasps of air and his eyes started to water. Not knowing what he should do next he decided to go in the diner, even though he had been avoiding it for the last six months. When he walked in the bell above the door jingled lightly and he stepped into the warm and hospitable haven. It hasn’t changed at all, the man thought. The same white plaster ceiling and white walls. The same oak bar that served drinks and milkshakes. Even the floor was the same with the black and white tiles that formed diamonds on the ground.

     “1, 2, 3, 4, and turn right,” the man said aloud.

     That was the way to their booth, the place where they shared their first laughs, food, and drinks. He sat down on the side that faced the door, in the red cushioned booth with the wobbly black table. Whenever he and she came to the diner, she always insisted on sitting there no matter how dirty or loose the table was. 

     There was no one else in the diner, which was not surprising due to how late it was so the waitress hurried over and took the man’s order. He had been here so many times that he did not need a menu and he ordered the same thing he had always gotten: a Reuben sandwich with fries and a coffee. As the waitress began walking away he called out to her and asked for a turkey sandwich with chips and club soda. That was not his order. That was her order. The one with the great red hair, dark coat, and black shoes. The man thought about those shoes and chuckled slightly. Those black high heels that she would insist on wearing to add those few inches, so the rest of the world could see her. They clicked and clacked as she walked on this tile the man remembered. He could always recognize her from the sound of her shoes. 

     This memory of his wife caused him to remember his manners, so he took off his coat and hat and placed them next to them. By then his food had come. The waitress had placed both meals in front of him, so he took the plate with the turkey sandwich and chips, and he took the club soda and slid it across from him, taking the empty spot in front of him. A mixture of confusion and happiness overtook the man, so he began to eat.

     At this point, more customers had begun to enter the diner. At first only a few trickled in, but now great swarms entered and began eating and laughing, and had taken up every remaining seat. 

     “There must have been a game tonight,” thought the man, “after all Wrigely is only a few blocks away.” 

     As he finished his own sandwich, he still felt hungry so he slid the plate and drink over to himself, picked up the turkey sandwich and was about to take a bite when he stopped.

     Click.

     Clack.

     Click.

     Clack.

     The man looked up and saw a woman standing in the doorway. She had dark high heels on, a light, colorful coat, and a wave of blonde hair. She scanned the diner as if she were looking for someone. Not someone, the man realized, she’s looking for a place to sit. The woman then saw the open seat in front of him and walked over. The man did not know what to think. A tumble and mixture of emotions went through him, but when she reached the table he felt calm, light even. 

     She looked down at him, smiled and asked, “Is this seat taken?”

     He looked back up at her, and with a small grin on his face said, “No.”