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There is something comforting about walking into a diner. Overstuffed
booths squeek when you slide across the leather seat. Round stools
trimed in shiny steel spin around and around with a push.
Feels like your Mom's kitchen. Food tastes like
Mom would make. Scrambled eggs, toast with melted butter, spicy
home fries.
Rainy or cold weather outside helps. Bright lights
including the buzzing neon- glare against the dark night.
Strong hot coffee, and tall desserts spining around
in the display cabinets. No wimpy flat pie here. Coconut cake 5
inches high, nothing less. Fat cheeseburgers and fries too hot to
touch- washed down with vanillia ice cream and malt blended just
enough to be able to pour it into a tall glass.
Heavy white ceramic plates hold slices of thick
white bread piled with roast beef. Dark brown gravy pools on the
open faced sandwich and runs over crisp french fries. Hummm. I'm
hungry.
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