There's something special about sitting in a waffle house alone on a Wednesday at 11 PM.
Nobody knows you.
People are nice here.
Nicer than most in this big cruel world.
They pretend to be neighbors even if it's for a fleeting moment in the night.
And in this moment they might as well be; together outside the lines of the noise and the facade.
It's an earnest slice of a sight unseen.
Devoid of politics, fancy things, fancy frilly tastes; an over-air conditioned piece of American paradise.
Waffles and bottomless black coffee.
"Do you want pecans added in that waffle for a quarter?"
The waitress smiles.
She doesn't eat here, but she works here anyways.
To live. To get away from all the facade.