Final Lit Mag 3 | Page 29

Dinner and a Show by Chris Simpson As we sat there, my nerves began to get to me. It was quiet. I could hear my blood flow through my veins. The heavy silence became it's on entity, lingering throughout the diner like a crestfallen spirit. Nevertheless the diner was packed, this was normal. But today was not like other days in Hamilton. It was frigid in the diner, yet I was sweating. So was my class mates because we knew today we were putting our lives at stake. Dry muttering overcame the diner; I could feel the odious stares of the people sitting behind me. The waitress knew something was going to happen, she looked straight into m eyes, unsettled but determined, and said "No blacks allowed out the counter. I was silent I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I was taking by surprise. I wasn't expecting such a power coming out of small, frail body. I worked up enough courage to converse "My I have some coffee." I said with all the confidence I possessed. The cook came around from the back slowly like a lion stalking his prey. Suddenly he slapped his giant, greased covered hands on the counter in front of me. "Coffee?" He asked in a whisper. “Coffee?" He repeated this time with an eerie smirk. I smiled back his smirk quickly vanished. "Yes sir coffee.... That black liquid right there next the sugar the white powdery stuff" I replied. My classmates giggled raising their heads from the textbooks that kept them occupied for the greater part of our sit in. "I got your coffee." The cook barked. Once those words spilled out of his mouth my heart dropped. I knew I messed up, my smart mouth got me in trouble once again. He grabbed the container full of hot black liquid and launched it at my face. The combination of hard glass and blistering hot coffee hitting my face made it numb. But I could still feel every ounce of the pain; I grabbed my face in an attempt to cease the burning sensation. The waitress removed my shaking hands from my face; she examined my face like she was trying to contemplate the damage that was done to me. Our eyes meet; I felt a moment of tranquility as I gazed into her mudd 䁉ɽݸ