LPfiction

Category Linkin Park

Black Coffee by linkinloopy

A.N- This is the first time I have tried this style of writing so it may get slightly confusing. Please review constructive criticism welcome.

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The two men seated themselves at the dingy booth in the small diner just off the highway. The plastic seats were covered in duct tape and the table was covered in pencil marks of long forgotten visitors. The tiny roadside establishment was full of people whose dreams have died and the two men who sat down were no exception, despite the large tour bus that stood outside, parked in the dust.


They sat and stared at the menus but never really saw the words. The waitress came by to take their order to which she received two mutters of “coffee- black” and that was all. She was used to it.

“You think he’ll make it through the next show?”

“That’s always the question isn’t it?”

“Of course”

“Has anyone ever been able to answer?”

Both questions went unanswered. Just like every other time. The bell above the door gave a half hearted jingle as another figure entered. His bleached blond hair was messy and his roots were showing. He had on a hoodie and gray sweatpants with old tattered sneakers. He headed to the counter, not even sparing a glance towards the two men at the booth.

“Some rock star”

“Yeah, aren’t we all?”

“Were we ever really rock stars?”

“Yeah. Yeah, when our dreams were still alive, we were all rock stars”

The coffee arrives, black and like mud. Neither man complains; both settle down and watch their friend as he nurses his own cup, full of identical coffee no doubt. For a while there is silence. Another figure joins them, his attire similar to the blond who had entered earlier, only his messy hair is at least covered with a hat. But the hat is old and battered , faded and worn, much like his expression as he slides into the both only sparing a second to glance at the blond seated at the counter.

“Remember when we all used to eat breakfast together, and complain about places like this?” he asks with only a trace of a sigh.

“That was a long time ago”

“Seems like everything was a long time ago”

“It was nicer back then”

“Yeah, but that was a long time ago”

The waitress wanders back over and takes the booth’s newest occupant’s order, coffee…black. He never used to drink it black but somewhere along the line he began to find reassurance in the familiar bitterness.

A fifth man enters the diner now and bravely heads toward the counter.

“Fool” the muttered word is heard only by the booth’s other two occupants, and again the trace of a sigh escapes the third mans lips as he waits for his coffee. The fifth man is tall and thin, the muscles that once adorned his arms have faded and left him looking weaker, more vulnerable. The T-shirt he wears is too big; the pants that once used to fit are now hanging on only by the belt wrapped tightly around his narrow waist. His hair is shaggy and uncut. They watch as he silently sits next to the blond man. The two men do not greet each other.

“How long do you think ‘til he dies of a broken heart?”

“Dunno. It’s been going on for so long”

Another sigh was the only contribution from the man in the hat. He used to have so much to say. These days, all he’s left with is silence.

“So… think he’ll fuck up again?”

“He never used to mess up, used to be the best out of all of us, he used to be a perfectionist”

“Used to, used to, he used to be something…. We used to be something”

“Yeah… a long time ago” sighs the man in the hat as his coffee arrives. Black.

They sit in silence for a while observing the men at the counter as they exchange quiet words. They all imagine that if they squint they might be able to see the tension between the two men.

“No wonder Joe left” said one of the first two men quietly, his somber eyes peeking out from beneath his mass of curls that he no longer took pride in, rather let run rampant because it was too much of a bother to cut them.

“He was the smart one”

“He wasn’t made for this”

“This?”

“This crap” with that that man in the hat gets up and leaves, his slightly Asian eyes somber. The two men watch him go. For a while they sit in silence before turning their attention to the two men at the counter.

“How long do you think we can last like this?”

“That’s been the question for a while now”

“Yeah”

“There are no answers to these questions, and you know it”

The blond at the counter leaves without a backward glance at the other man. As the bell halfheartedly signals his departure the thin man’s head drops into his hands and the two men at the booth imagine if they squint they might just be able to see the sorrow that eats away at him.

“How did things get like this?”

The question goes unanswered.


A.N- I’m thinking of doing another chapter focusing on the counter but only if I get at least 3 reviews on this.

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