It's Time to Leave

 

I sit at the lunch counter, unimpressed with the cleanliness of my coffee mug, but I use it.  An odd assortment of strangers sit along the stools having their breakfast, no one really talking to anyone.

I see a piece of cake displayed on a plate on the counter.  It is covered by a glass dome.  I wonder how long it has been there.  Just how fresh can it be?  And I’m sure the glass dome comes as a great disappointment to the flies.

The man next to me has a newspaper laying next to his plate.  The headline says, Nixon Resigns.  For sure, I’m not ordering the cake.  I look up at the wall clock over the front door.  The time says 10 minutes past 10, but the electric cord dangles beneath it - unplugged.