The diner’s bell jingled as Martha stepped in, shaking the rain off her umbrella. It was a gray, drizzly afternoon, the kind that made people want to huddle over hot coffee and complain about the weather. She spotted Bill sitting in their usual booth, a slice of apple pie in front of him and a newspaper spread out on the table. “You saved me a piece,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him. Bill nodded, pushing the sugar bowl toward her. “Waitress said you’d be in around three. How was the bridge club?” Martha sighed, stirring cream into her coffee. “Jean won again. Claims she’s not counting cards, but I saw her marking the deck with a nail file. Oldest trick in the book.” Bill grunted, cutting into his pie. “You should call her out on it. Stand up for yourself.” Martha raised an eyebrow. “And have her cry to the whole club about how I’m ‘bullying’ her? No thank you. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the rain streak down the windows. “Remember when we used to dance at the VFW hall?” Martha said suddenly. Bill looked up, a faint smile on his face. “You stepped on my toes so many times I thought I’d need crutches. And you kept trying to lead.” Martha laughed, the sound warm and rich. “Someone had to. You were too busy staring at your feet to move.” Bill shook his head, but he was smiling. “Those were good times. Simple, you know? No smartphones, no social media. Just people talking to each other.” Martha nodded, sipping her coffee. “We’re lucky, you know. We got to grow up before the world got so loud. Got to know our neighbors, not just their profiles online.” Bill grunted in agreement. “Too right. These kids today—they’ll never know what it’s like to sit on a porch and just… talk. No agenda, no hurry. Just being.”
The waitress refilled their mugs, and Martha reached for the sugar again. “You want another piece of pie?” Bill asked. She shook her head. “I’ve got to get home. Edna’s bringing over her famous meatloaf tonight, and I need to set the table. You should come over. She’d love to see you.” Bill thought for a moment, then nodded. “Why not? beats eating alone. And I’ll bring the ice cream for dessert.” Martha smiled. “Deal. But no chocolate. Edna’s got a thing against it.” Bill rolled his eyes. “Of course she does. That woman’s got more quirks than a barn owl.