"I can't believe you write this dribble," Laura snarled at her sister from across the table, "It’s just such a disgrace to women. This character...she just sounds pitiful."
Ruby rolled her eyes. The story was only in its basic, unrefined form, and Ruby hated criticism before she had polished a piece.
"Hey...this dribble pays my bills," she snarled back, digging in to the last bite of pancake on the chipped china plate. The diner around her smelled of old people and stale food. It reminded Ruby of years gone by. Black, sparkle-flecked seats, tables that had seen better days. The black and white tile on the floor was clean but battered from years of chairs and tables and hard shoes and broken china.
"Ooh...there he is," Laura whispered, kicking Ruby under the table.
She felt the urge to whip around, to stare at Laura’s newfound entertainment. Laura was new in town, so she wasn't sure if the handsome stranger had always been a regular, or if she had just been lucky to be present during his visits for breakfast. Only in town a few weeks, Laura lived around the corner from the diner, choosing to order three meals a day rather than endure the pain of grocery shopping and actually cooking at home. Ah, the joys of single life, Ruby thought to herself.
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