The diner smelled of fried food and burnt coffee. A trucker nursed his mug in silence while a family shared burgers at a booth.
In the corner sat an elderly man, thin and stooped, his jacket worn at the seams. A Vietnam veteran, he sipped his black coffee, both hands steady on the table.
The door banged open, a gust of air following in a hulking figure. A motorcyclist, heavy boots striking the floor, scanned the room until his eyes landed on the old man. “You again, fossil?” he sneered. The chatter stopped instantly, forks suspended in midair.
“This is my spot, old bastard. Leave before I throw you out.”
The veteran lifted his eyes, voice calm but tired. “Kid, I’ve faced worse than you. If you want this chair so badly, take it.”
