default diner
a short story about american desires, suburban aimlessness, and the agony of menus
The diner is where they go when they can’t decide on where to eat; they eat there often.
It always goes something like this:
“Where you wanna eat?”
“I don’t know, where you wanna eat?”
The car (Toyota Rav4, 2016 edition) smells like weed by way of fabric softener and Axe body spray—the softener from their clothes, fresh out of home appliances purchased by …
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