You want some of this? he asked. I’ll give you a bit. Let me heat it up for you. It won’t take but thirty seconds. Grab a roll while you’re waiting. There’s bear claws, cinnamon rolls, long johns. Guy from the bakery dropped the box off this morning. Take your pick, he offered. Need cream and sugar?

Cream, the old man told him. Got any of those flavored kinds. French vanilla. I like that.

Let me see. Irish cream, Dutch chocolate,  pumpkin spice. Here, French vanilla. 

Wait. You got pumpkin spice?

Yeah.

I’ll take that. Even though it’s August.

Take what you want, the owner handed him a bowl filled with tiny creamers.

August. We’re rushing seasons a bit, aren’t we.

I suppose. What kind of roll do you want?

Bear claw will be fine.

One bear claw, he served it on a plate. Poured more coffee. You get tired of life, don’t you? the old man looked out the window at cars as they drove by in the dark. Headlights shone into the diner.

I do, the old timer said. I do.

Curious?

About?

What’s on the other side. If church is right. Heaven and hell. All that stuff.

What do you think?

Not sure. At one time, I thought I knew. Not anymore. 

I’ve been coming here for twenty-five years, he said. You’ve been here for ten. Used to have this talk with the old owner.

Hank?

Yeah. Right before he died. Said he was going to heaven. Then he took a gun out and shot himself right in front of me. Damndest thing I’ve ever seen.

Yep.

I saw some strange shit in Korea, but nothing like that.

I’ll bet.

Place was closed for a year, a year and a half.

I remember. Bet it was a bitch to clean up.

I’ll bet, said the old customer. There was silence. The old man kept watching traffic go by.

You want more coffee?

Sure.