ceciliatan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Christian and I went out the next night. We went to a place I had been with Jonathan years before, the Union Oyster House. We got recognized as Somewhat Famous People by the host and shown to a table where we couldn’t be seen from the door. The host, a young-looking guy but with his hair so short it made it seem like he was balding, fluttered nervously, though. “Is this all right?” he asked. “It’s somewhat close to the kitchen.”

Chris patted him on the shoulder. “We both worked in kitchens before we made enough money to afford to eat here. It’s really okay.”