My eyes, once adjusted to the dark, were assaulted by the mix of bright teal and dingy diner red. The hokey orca and great white on the wall were far older than the current shark craze.
“Sit where you want, hon,” A female voice called out.
The table, though clean, had obviously been there since the early 1940s, or perhaps was a refugee from an ancient railcar diner.
Recognizing a few faces half seen in the dim light, I smiled as I took my seat.
After six years living in the tourist town, I had finally found the local hangout.
Word count = 100