Until one night he wasn’t. I was devastated, and proceeded to drink far more than was sensible. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t there, he wa... always there, nor was he in any of the other bars. Finally as the heavens opened and the rain poured down I stumbled home, feeling dejected and insecure. And there he was, standing in my doorway, waiting. He turned toward me as I walked toward him, and without speaking he pulled me to him, his lips finally finding mine as the rain soaked through to. She walked over and slid into the booth opposite him. She reached for the flowers and smelled them. People were staring at them.If you looked up "Greasy Spoon" in the dictionary, there would probably be a picture of the Wagon Wheel there. It had been a fixture in town ever since Polly could remember. When she was in High School, it was the place to go to hang out and have French fries with cream gravy. It had fallen out of favor with the young crowd, and into favor with migrant workers for. More

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