In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneer Challenge.
Wayne slowly eased his 83-year-old body into the patio chair. A food magazine had described the food at this restaurant as “heavenly.” His friend Alfred occupied one of the other chairs. “Where is Charlie?’
Alfred, already miffed because Wayne was 10 minutes late for their lunch, continued to stare at the menu. He was having a difficult time deciding between the angel food cake or the devil delight. “Said he was having some trouble at the gate.”
Wayne, having already decided on his menu selection, turned around looking for their waiter. “Where is he? What, are we invisible?”