Looking around I wonder if there is a reason I am sitting alone in this shabby, run-down diner. I am adventurous, but this is a stretch even for me. When I was about to get up and just go find some other place, a waitress came out of the kitchen; she looks strangely familiar but I can’t tell where from. As she approaches I can see a look of confusion cross her face, so I guess I’m not crazy. Unfortunately, the letters on her name tag are too faded to make out. The waitress takes my order a walks away. Now that I have no choice to stay here, I take in my surroundings.
This small diner would be a health inspector’s nightmare. The grimy linoleum floors, once white, are now yellow with dirt and dust from the south Nevada desert. As she came back carrying a tray of french fries, a milk shake, and a hamburger; I can hear my stomach growl, laughing she sits down across from me. As I sink my teeth into my thick, juicy burger, I struggle to suppress the whimper of delight. Yes this was a grimy, shabby, unsanitary diner, but the hamburgers were about as five star as hamburgers can be.
After I stuffed my face enough that I thought I might not pass out, I decided to find out who my waitress was. Yet, I had barely swallowed before the same question came out of her mouth. “What is your name?” she asked. “Danielle” I reply. In the blink of an eye she came around the table, and embraced me in a hug, screaming “DANI!” “OMIGOSH!” “Omigosh”, that one phrase gave her away. I knew only one person who said “omigosh”, not “oh my gosh”, “omigosh”.
It was Brooke, my best friend since eighth grade, who I had lost touch with after high school, and who by some incredible twist of fate I had found again in this shabby old diner. As if on cue the song Skyway Avenue by We the Kings started playing. It was one of our favorite songs in high school. Laughing, we got up and began singing and dancing (which is not the easiest thing to do while laughing), as we had a million times before.