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Hart’s Rest



BARTHOLI’S REST


By Marshall Thornton


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© 2010 Marshall Thornton




“It must have been a terrible fall,” Rita said, lighting a Winston. Nervously, she fingered the etched silver lighter her husband had recently given her for their nineteenth wedding anniversary. Jan nodded agreement and sipped her coffee.


The women sat at a deuce in the back corner of the main dining room. They wore deep blue polyester waitress uniforms with white scalloped aprons sewn onto their laps. Mercifully permanent press, the uniforms were stiff and scratchy with hemlines one inch above the knee. Jan shifted uncomfortably, her garters weren’t adjusted correctly and her stockings felt loose – she’d have to take care of that before the shift started. The set-up work was finished, stations checked, there was nothing to do at eleven-ten but wait for the first lunch patrons to arrive.

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