“I’m afraid this is still 1961 guys. The little lady is going to have to sit elsewhere, hmm?”
“There. That’s better. What can I do you for today? Burgers?”
“No, nothing right now. We’ll order later when you have vegetables in salads,” commanded Wendy, appearing as if behind a shadow of a person instead of a real one.
“Suit yourself. My shift is over,” spoke Sarah. “Wanda will be over shortly to check on you. But I wouldn’t hold my breath on the vegetables. Have a nice day.” As she left with her tray of little burgers still untouched, Sarah glanced over at the space that would be a salad bar, currently occupied by a soda fountain and an ice cream counter. Sugar and especially meat would rule the day for a while, she knew. She’d worked in this here city long enough to understand that.
An Everly Brothers hit blared from the jukebox on the far side of the diner, perhaps “Cathy’s Clown”, their latest, as Wendy got down to business. “Soo… you said you know the whereabouts of the black man called Francis. Last seen here in Meat City.”
“The *negro* known as Francis,” rudely corrects Mathew, of a different color skin himself from the “norm”; obviously should have been more understanding of the situation. And why was he here with Susan in the first place?
Susan. Yes, that was her name.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 