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I walk the deserted streets hoping to find what I’m looking for, knowing I won’t. Seeing the homeless in every alley makes me depressed. Each building with only a few glistening lights. One catches my eye, looks as though there is much commotion even though everyone in their right mind should be at home in bed a long time ago. I walk on and notice an all night diner and decide food sounds good. 1

I enter the doors to find only one other person. I set at a bar stool and wait for a menu. A woman with gray hair smacking gum tosses a menu in front of me asking, "Whatcha wanna drink?" I reply as nicely as possible over the smacking of her gum, "How about a root beer float, please?" She walks away and I scan the menu, nothing really looks good, but today’s special is tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich. I decide that will work, and call the waitress over. "Whatcha eating tonight?" she says as she hands me my float. I look at her name tag, "I’ll have the special and an order of potatoes chips, Margaret." She looks surprised I noticed her name, "That’ll be out in just a few minutes." I nod and she walks away smiling. I mix my float up and sip at it waiting for my food. 2

What brought me here was the fight that happened with my family after our weekly meal together. Watching T.V. not paying any attention to the happenings, I was rudely awakened by a door slamming, my dad darting out after my mom. I flicked channels nervously waiting to hear what had happened this time. My dad came through with tears in his eyes, knowing this wasn’t good I only nodded in understanding. My mother was a terrible alcoholic and had been for as long as I can remember. Fighting ensued nightly when dad decided she had had enough and she strongly disagreed. Usually she’d go in the garage and continue drinking until she passed out and dad slept alone. This night she said she was leaving and wouldn’t be back. 3

Margaret says, "Sir, here’s the food, enjoy." I come back from my trance and thank her. The soup in front of me is definitely watered down and the bread of my sandwich looks pretty dry but I didn’t argue. As I was eating in noticed a women with red hair walk in, probably about twenty-five. She looked like some kind of dancer, I noticed she had a wad of ones and fives, must have been the end of her night. I took one last bite of the sandwich and left half a bowl of soup setting along with a tip. Heading out to pay, the woman stops me and asked for change for a twenty. This makes no sense with all the small bills she had but I was courteous, giving her change for a twenty anyway. As I am walking out after paying the bill, the red head waved and said, "Thanks a lot man, I’m sure I’ll see you around." Unsure about the comment I only nod and smile. Why was she so sure she’d see me again in a city this size? I shrug it off and head toward my apartment.4