Sal, convinced that everyone was out to get him, sat at the counter and ordered a cup of coffee from the waitress who was shaped like an orange with another orange on top of it wearing a blue apron. He noticed that her skin was covered in decades of black heads caused by the flaring grease fire roaring behind her since the 60s. She brought him the coffee and it was too hot; he knew she was trying to burn his mouth with the scalding hot liquid. He asked her for those little pre-packaged cones of half-and-half with their tips flattened. She pointed toward the little metal pitcher of cream, but he demanded the flattened little cones. She rolled her eyes and took her time bringing them over. She asked him if he was going to order anything, but he wasn’t sure yet so she would just have to come back in a little while. He just wanted to drink his coffee and be left alone.