Unnamed

This was written sometime while I was a junior or senior working at Hardees in Dickson TN. This would be the original Hardees that was on the bypass.

I saw your face as you walked in. You were shaggy and unkempt. Your steps were slow, your shoes ragged. The clothes that you wore were dirty and torn. Thick working gloves black from frequent use.

A coat thick for cold winters in a small box overflowing with other personal belongings.

The day is scorching hot. You look lost among the other people who fill the room. The smell of food is thick and you look hungry. The restaurant is full and you find the only empty table and stare out of a window. Outside the traffic is whizzing by.

We all watch you. You are so out of place in here. Lunch hour in the middle of the rush. Drinks and burgers, and cones and shakes. You appear not to notice the other customers.

Then just as suddenly as you had arrived, you leave. You just walk out the door. We all comment on the sadness of your situation. The odd way you chose our restaurant to rest, and retreat from the heat.

When you return we offer you a glass of water. A smile crosses your tired face. The first of many homeless people to take up residence on the streets of Dickson.