Accepted Psychosis

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Amid the clattering, clinking chaos of the diner, two people converse across the grimy counter lined with tacky cherry barstools. They speak as if their surroundings are nothing but empty booths and shadows. The flaxen waitress's crimson lips utter silent words as her chocolate eyes drift to the gray windows, who weep with the onslaught of icy precipitation outside. A morose man sits behind a bastion of newsprint, his hollow replies muffled behind his mask of black and white. A single coffee mug sits silently betwixt these shells of human beings who struggle to survive this interminable marathon called "life".

The mass of sluggish human existence contained within the bleak walls of the all-American eatery fills the air with the stink of damp clothes and coffee. Plain walls enclose this quiet confusion of everyday routines. Sighs swirl the steam from the crisp mugs of dark, bitter liquid consumed to rid the eyes of sleep. Weary feet shuffle the dust of the night on the floor. Fans spin slow and steady from the pale ceiling, their shadows dancing dizzily around the linoleum. Dreary voices drawl as the incessant downpour raps at the frigid windows. Manicured nails tap the grease-coated counter as her other hand wipes the grime with a filthy rag that once upon a time was white. Pale gray eyes emerge from behind the headlines to eye her disheveled uniform, then again disappear to examine articles of universal madness.





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sleeplessdreamer said...
Jul. 21, 2010 at 11:26 am

I LOVE this piece. It has a beautiful flow to it so that it almost sounds like a poem.

One thing I didn't like is the use of the word "betwixt". Use between or something else. Everything was going great and then it was like "WHAT???"... that's all though. The rest was great.

 
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