He and his gang walk in, wind blowing through his silver mullet-styled hair. They were regulars. He leads the gang to the table in the back corner of the diner at which they always sit, and something about you catches his eye as you serve another table. He watches you until you come over to them. His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks: …I’ll get a beer. The rest of the guys order drinks and a couple burgers.
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