“I prefer to underwrite. Simple, clear as a country creek.”

- Truman Capote

She is formidable, a large woman with short, dark hair, a seasoned look about her face, and eyes that miss nothing. Her mouth is of the sort that brings to mind a joke untold, always ready with a smile for her favourite customer. By the way, everyone is her favourite customer.

She remembers everything, even months later: “Beef with broccoli, rice on the side. You’ll take the leftovers home to your son, right?”

Once. Once I made that request. Months ago it was, but she always remembers.

“I’ll check and see if they can do up the black bean tofu with gluten-free sauce for you. Be right back,” before I’d even asked.

Behind those eyes that miss nothing there must be a thousand stories, sketches of every customer who’s ever walked through the door to her diner. She’ll put her sketches to much different use than a writer would, or a painter, or a sculptor. All to the greater good; she’s a rare breed of career waitress.

Not many of them left, alas.