We drink coffee from paper cups and eat free employee eggs while we wait for the morning to pass. Scott lifts both warm paper cups and pulls them into one another. Gingerly, romantically, the paper lids kiss. Scott then lifts both warm paper cups and pushes them into one another. Abruptly, violently, the paper cups hump one another. I stand by, abducted by giggles. Another waiter spies on, quizzically disturbed. He walks away. Scott then lifts a fork full of scrambled eggs and kisses my omelet with it. Then messily, the eggs fornicate on my plate.
That's when I say that breakfast is over.
That's when I say that breakfast is over.
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