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Rated: E · Prose · Biographical · #2212201
Snapshot of a morning spent at a diner in the town of Dagget, California
Pit Stop at Dagget

         Pretty decent cup of coffee for a chinese cafe in Dagget, California.
Actually, this cafe is Dagget. Nothing for miles but a half-shaven, unwashed panorama. A couple wearing the same striped shirts and caps sit at the other table and dig into identical plates of food, their necks one size too big for their collars. Their quiet acceptance of each other and their fate is also Dagget.
         A boy outside taps on the window behind the napkin holder. He presses his nose against the glass and smiles at me with a grin that says "hey buddy, can you believe how great life is here in Dagget?!" Only the glass prevents his joy from getting all over my pancakes. Nevertheless, his supernova smile warms the cockles of this guarded loner who longs to be unguarded and un-alone.
         Suddenly, an arm pulls him away and puts him in a line with other children, also happy, but, from close observation, less able. The boy puts his arms around the waist of the child in front of him, his smile waning, mind entranced, perhaps exploring a more beatific plane of existence. The adults help them into the van one by one. I wonder if that boy knows how well he went with my breakfast? Maybe that's his job. Or maybe he just saw someone worth emoting to.
         The van full of children pulls away. A girl waves from behind the back window above the big black letters spelling out the name of the school--St. something or other. Must be a school for the spiritually gifted.

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