They sat in an Abandoned Luncheonette sipping imaginary cola and drawing faces in the tabletop dust His voice was rusty from years as a sergeant on "this man's army" they were old and crusty She was twenty when the diner was a baby He was the dishwasher, busy in the back, his hands covered with gravy Hair black and wavy Brilliantine slick, a pot - cleaning dandy, He was young and randy Day to day, to day... today then they were old, their lives wasted away Month to month, year to year they all run together time measured by the peeling of paint on the luncheonette wall They sat together in the empty diner filled with cracked china Old news was blowing across the filthy floor and the sign on the door read "this way out", that's all it read that's all it said