smokin' | louigan

twenty-five

"i need an order of fries for the counter, brain." logan shouted through the window as he passed the kitchen. the restaurant was full as the saturday night dinner rush flooded in. logan's white apron was stained with a bit of coffee, ketchup, and pickle juice. he grabbed the pot of coffee, beginning to fill empty mugs on the counter in front of him. people murmured their appreciation, greasy lips slipping on such empty words.

louise hit the bell and placed a small red and white carton of fries on the window sill. the sizzle of hamburgers seemed to smother her eardrums. making food was a form of art to louise: the perfectly toasted bun, juicy seasoned patty, crisp lettuce, juicy tomato, melted cheese. usually, just the thought of hamburgers made her mouth water.

but today was different. there was an unusual tension bubbling around the building between the two residents. louise woke to the slam of the front door, soon finding logan on the sidewalk chain smoking cigarettes. he was disheveled, grey sweats and a red t-shirt, bare feet kicking around pebbles and leaves. the day was particularly gloomy too.

this had left an emptiness in her stomach and a sour taste on her tongue. she wanted to pull her bunny ears over her face in hopes they might swallow her whole. she was so consumed by this feeling she had to re-use one of her dad's horrible puns for the burger of the day: don't go bacon my heart: comes with extra bacon.

"louise, i'm taking a quick break." logan slipped another order, a slightly stained piece of yellow memo paper, onto the sill and walked to the door. she ran a hand through her hair and groaned, wishing logan would like literally anything else more than his cigarettes.

but louise knew what addiction was like; you never get addicted to people, only things that make you feel good.

in ten minutes, she had six plates balanced on a tray raised above her shoulder. she exited the kitchen, serving booths with a fake smile. she grabbed an empty napkin dispenser and some left over menus and fled to behind the counter.

someone asked for some ketchup and she slid a bottle over. a bead of sweat rolled down her right temple. she hadn't slept the night before, something to do with overripe lemons and moonlight.

with some sugar packets in hand, she grabbed the coffee pot and began refilling some mugs even though people didn't need caffeine at dusk. but she needed something to keep her hands from shaking.

"can i start you off with some coff—" louise stopped, brown eyes wide. the man was lanky, auburn hair curling by his ears, baggy blue shirt and tight maroon jeans. black glasses rested on his small nose and louise remembered laying on the beach counting his freckles and drinking a stolen bottle of rum.

"hey, lou."

"rudy."