Drew Suppa

The Diner

“I asked about an Auburn Speedster. Illinois plates, canary yellow. Couldn’t miss it if ya saw it. Ring a bell?” Uncle Jim tenaciously tongued the cavity in his molar from behind the counter, buying time as he ran through every way this situation could play out in his head. He reeked of bacon grease and sweat, his rolled sleeves exposing an armful of cooking burns.