The Man: by Avery Jackson
The man was tall, slender. Fashioned with a simple black suit, black shoes and an unknown class ring that fit his ring finger perfectly. His bony fingers tapped the table as he waited patiently for his meal. He was always patient. The waitress came by with a picture of sweet tea. She filled his cup and he smiled at her as a thanks. Her eyes widened and she rushed away to the next table. The man was always kind. He crossed his thin legs and continued to wait.
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The waitress fell to the floor. Her legs sprawled out and her eyes wide open. She wasn’t breathing. The loud screech from the woman at the table could be heard from down the street. They tried to resuscitate her but it was useless. She was gone.
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The man sat at his table, unamused. He rises, realizing his food probably wouldn't come now. He walks out the door to the next restaurant and continues his process. His job.
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