The Last Pew
He had a coffee in front of him. He took a sip. Cream no sugar. The waitress smiled. She knew his preference like a well-read book. "I saw you at church, again, last Sunday," he said, before adding, "And I'll have the usual." "Instead of three eggs over easy, I could have the cook make you a western with the leftover meatloaf. It's only a buck more, and I know you like the meatloaf." "Sounds good" he replied. "With home fries and a couple biscuits." She gave him a broad smile before turning toward the kitchen and calling the order in to the rounded bald guy at the grill. Sizzling bacon and the aroma of coffee filled the senses. The bacon was for a customer back in one of the booths, to accompany a trio of fried eggs. The waitress turned back with a fresh pot of coffee and topped off his mug. "Does four weeks in a row make me some sort of a holy roller?" she asked. "You could have come and sat with me. You ...