Stardust a La Mode
Ice Cream as a Metaphor for Life
He finds refuge from the rain in a diner called The Stardust — a pink neon beacon — fifty-six years of 24-hour service
He pushes open the door and squints under the harsh yellow light
Three men, all clad in flannel jackets & woollen toques, look up from the counter
In a booth by the wall, a young couple make out, their slices of pie untouched
He looks at the table and notices their ice cream has melted — has formed a pool on the plate
Damn waste, he thinks. But not really
Hey, hun, Viv, his waitress says, coffee pot in one hand. Haven’t seen you in here before
He nods. Yeah. Just moved here
She laughs. Why in hell would anyone move here? This town doesn’t even register on the map
Exactly, he says
Sounds like you’re outrunning some ghosts, Viv says. I’ll give you a minute
He pretends to read the menu
No big deal, he thinks
All waitresses in places like this call you hun. Ask questions. It doesn’t mean anything
He catches the eyes of the counter men
