You don’t believe me. Do you? He asked. I can tell by looking at you. You’re saying this man’s a liar. And, you could be right. He took a drag from his cigarette. I’ve seen your type before, he added. Always questioning. Always a doubt. The short man said to her. What is it about me that looks suspicious? He drank from his coffee cup. What is it? His fist slammed down on the table. She sat quietly.  Looking at him. Right, he said. You can’t name it. The waitress brought over their plates.

You know what gets me? He asked. The point of it all, he continued. All this digging in the trenches. And for what? She took a bite of her omelet. Look at me, he told her. I said, look at me. He grabbed the fork from her hand. I’m making a statement here. Saying something important. Now, look at me when I speak. He demanded. The empty man touched the face of a younger woman. Just look at me.

Is everything alright here? The waitress asked. The two of them nodded. How’s your breakfast? They smiled. The tall server wrote out a check and turned it upside down on the table; sliding it towards him. I’ll take it when you’re ready. She said. No rush.

As she walked away, the gray-haired man watched her. They both looked at the way she walked. Admired her long red hair. Smiled when she turned around.

Your food is getting cold, the girl said. You should eat.

When I was young, my mother made me eat everything on the plate. She said they were starving in China and Africa. Spoke of famine and disease. All this over bits of uneaten food. She laughed.

Well, he said. I hated her, too.