It was one of those pseudo-1950s diners, you know the type, all chrome and neon. I didn’t want to stop but I hadn’t eaten since the event and my stomach was throwing fits. Breakfast 24×7 fit the bill.
At 3;30 AM in a greasy spoon in a hick town, I figured I’d be fine. Who’d notice? Nobody even looked at me as I entered. Or so I thought until that tap on the shoulder.
As the Feds led me out of the place I read the name and chuckled. I should have figured that a self-proclaimed “patriot” would turn me in.
— — —
Word count = 100