E Nezo

Sara Larson

Sean King

English

“Ow! Dang it!”
The coffee, black and bold, burnt Judith’s lips and tongue. 
She hadn’t been paying attention to what she was doing. 

“Let it cool off a bit.” 
Roland nudged the steaming cup a few inches away from her. 

The diner just opened and they were the first customers.

Before long, the breakfast crowd would begin to trickle in. Around them, the drips and drops of sleepy small-talk would slowly brew into a caffeinated cacophony. Full-bodied conversations brimming with enthusiasm, and over-confidence. A commotion they knew they couldn’t bear.

Until then they had the place to themselves. It was 4:30am and the sun had yet to rise. 
It was a full 5 minutes before Judith picked up the paisley patterned coffee cup and took a sip. Between them lay a pile of toast, jam and butter, and a pot of coffee. Roland smiled.

Judith was already nervous, and a bit distracted. Hence, the burnt tongue. Roland, by comparison, was cool, calm, & collected. Although, the remnants of his meal may have suggested otherwise. A chaotic mess of scattered crumbs & crusts. The dirt & bones of a breakfast massacre.

On account of the nerves, Judith didn’t have much of an appetite. And, once again, Roland found himself doing the nudging. “You gotta eat somethin,’ Judy.” She gave it some thought, and ordered a single pancake.

Outside the sky was turning a deep amber color. “Like Judith’s eyes,” Roland thought to himself. Her eyes were green in reality. Satisfied with his toast breakfast he glanced across the diner & noticed an elderly gentleman settling in at the bar with a newspaper & cup of coffee.

The front page read, “MISSING BOY FOUND AFTER 6-HOUR BIKE PURSUIT OF ICE CREAM TRUCK.” Roland chuckled with admiration for the kid. He instantly began reminiscing about his own summertime adventures. Simple times. Simple pleasures. Before he knew it, he was ordering a milkshake.

“Roland, what do ya wanna do today?” asked Judith, twirling the last pancake bite in a sea of maple syrup. 
“I’d like to go down to the old church to say a quick prayer, you know, for all the kids who won’t be able to eat today.” Roland looked at his milkshake and felt bad. “Ok”

Sure, Judith was anxious at times, but she kept him honest. Without her, he’d hold himself to a much lower standard. He wasn’t much into prayer, but he was into Judy, so he scooped-up the leftover bread crusts, and said with a smile, “while we’re at it, let’s feed the ducks.”

They spent time in the cemetery, feeding ducks, looking for unusual headstones & names. They walked in comfortable silence. After an hour of wandering they arrived at St. Agnes cathedral. Rays of light illuminated even the darkest corners. Judith prayed. Roland explored.

He awed at the stained glass, votive candles, sculptures & old wood. A priest appeared & nodded. “Hello, Judith. Good to see you again, Ronald.” Even holy men were dyslexic when it came to his name. “Actually, it’s ROLAND,” Judith emphasized taking his hand and holding it boldly.

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