FAT FICTION | Chapter 6 - Rosie’s Diner (Patreon)

The coffee didn’t do the trick and Paul wondered if Martha had served him decaf. He’d have liked to have checked with her, but had felt an overwhelming sensation to leave the coffee shop as quickly as possible.

Something about large women made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He couldn’t place it. He couldn’t remember an incident that would make him feel this way. It just sat there, oddly inside of him.

More foggy thoughts. 

He decided a sugar hit might get him home in one piece without spoiling his appetite. He pulled off the road as soon as he saw the diner. 

Rosie’s diner was a chrome-plated 1950s relic. Paul stepped inside to find it surprisingly busy. Spotting an empty seat, he slid into a cracked leather booth, shoulders tense. A waitress appeared and took his order. Blonde. Mid-30s. She was curvy, a little thick in the thighs, an ample D-sized chest. Cute smile. Her uniform skirt clung a little tighter than standard issue. 

Paul caught himself staring and an odd sensation tingled up his spine. He’d never dug curvy chicks before. This one however, had his attention. 

He pulled out his phone and sent Mia another message. 

“On the road! But just stopped for some caffeine. Can’t wait to see you. X”

Maybe all those dirty books back at the shop would give him some pointers on how to sext his girlfriend.

He ordered a piece of cherry pie and another coffee “Black! Caffeinated! To go, please!”  He couldn’t stay, he’d be late for his dinner date with Mia. He just… needed to ground himself after that weird scene at the coffee shop. And that daydream…

Wait, what daydream??? Something about the barista?

Was it a fantasy?

It felt oddly real. It didn’t feel like it was him. 

It wasn’t him. 

He wouldn’t cheat on Mia. He loved her. 

It was like a freaky character who resembled him. A freaky character from one of those damned books most likely!

He rubbed his temples. Maybe selling the shop was the best thing to do. 

He took a slow breath and calmed himself down. Whatever it was, it was over now. 

He tried to take in his surroundings. Be present. He noted another 30-something woman with short hair and a slim frame in the next booth over. She was taping on a notepad with a pen, impatiently. She looked at her watch and gave a dramatic and audible sigh. She made eye contact with Paul as if to say “Turn away friend. It ain’t any of your business.”   

Paul obliged. 

At the counter, two athletic college girls were sitting on stools, drinking smoothies and whispering to each other over their phones. They didn’t seem to have a care in the world. 

Paul closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the diner. The irritated sighs. The care-free laughter, and the clip clop of his waitress’ heels heading back around the counter. 

A wave of sleep came over him. 

If he’d opened his eyes, he might have seen a strange glow emanating from the boot of his car in the parking lot…