Broken Waitress

She smiled at me. How have you been? What can I get you? This girl, she is a sweetheart.
I smile back. I am good. I’ll have […] […]. This girl, she is a sweetheart.
I am in my own world, observing customers, observing the wait staff. Observing.
Turn and this girl, she is a sweetheart, is in tears.
She comes to my table. She needs a hug. We go outside.
My mom just died.
She falls apart. This girl, I take her in my arms and I hold her.
It’s going to be alright. Everything is going to be alright. [No it’s not]
We hardly know each other. But I am there for her.
I hold her. I listen to her. I tell her silly stories from waiting tables.
I tell her about me. I get her talking. We distract from the issue.
My dad is coming. She cries some more. The tears fall harder. My sisters.
Hush. It will be alright. She was having a rough time. She’ll be happier now.
She is in a better place.
This girl, she is a sweetheart, and I am just a customer.
But I am a customer who will listen.
I am a customer who will be her friend.
I will be there for her. I don’t even know her last name. I will be there for her.

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