People | Surveillance

The Writer Observes (Perkins Restaurant, Butte, Montana, Sunday, April 17, 11:17 a.m. – 12:16 p.m.)

“You definitely got more hash browns than I did.”


*

This place bakes in the midmorning heat, and smells like our various coats. The sun, aslant through the plate-glass windows, weighs heavy in the maple-flavored air, blankets our heads with Sunday torpidity. A hostess guides me past tables filled with heathens who have skipped church this morning (as well as those who went to the early service and now stare in judgment at those who probably did not). I’m led to a sticky booth at the back of the restaurant. I sit, order coffee, water, pancakes, and something called the Big Country Smasher®. I open my notebook, unpocket my pen, and begin my observations.

tryingtoldanything

what

not

doing

God

Hell

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