Saturday Story: Two Silver Bullets

You find yourself sidling up to Madelyn’s booth. You’re in a bind and she is the only one on earth who can get you out of it. You take note of the cowboy hat sticking out over the division between the smoking and non-smoking seating area. He has his back to you, so you feel all right, for now. Madelyn is tallying up the day’s takings; her shift is almost at an end, so you clear your throat as you take the seat opposite her.

“What do you want, Marv?”

Short Story: A Plastic Surgeon, A Diner and A Star

With unfocused eyes, Franklin stared down at the puce-coloured envelope on the Formica table. Behind him the neon sign of The Greasy Spoon intermittently buzzed to life, reflecting on the chrome napkin-holder to his left. He had his back to the room -- fewer people with whom to make eye-contact -- but took note of the noises that illustrated the other diners to him. He hoped the slurper behind him, who he supposed was a rotund truck driver, complete with a sweaty check shirt, stained jeans, branded baseball cap and toothpick, would leave soon. So far, it seemed, neither the slurper nor the envelope was going anywhere.