A Hostess Double Hum

The beach preservation, busy body society returns for the weekly dish.

Silver hair happy hour but with coffee and tea only.

As lively and loud as any bar at midnight.

Eight women and four men.

I hear battle stories of having both hips replaced.

Today, the one tops speak few words to me, if any.

They lead me to the table they want.

The sun shines on the new mural in the alley across the street.

I see it through the reflection of a storefront window.

Suddenly, a silver hair exclaims: that’s what panties are for!

I turn away to lose myself in a laugh.

She says: I’d like a half glass of water with no ice.


Early afternoon and the stranger birds arrive.

It is like summer in full swing.

People eat later.

Packs of wild children roam the streets like feral dogs.

B. and L. come in. I never remember them until they lead me to their spot.

Table 13.

One water and one merlot.

Oh yeah. I knew that.

The 4 o’clock hour. Brutally slow.

A man passes by on the sidewalk wearing a large ring on each finger.

I must be in a mood as I find it strangely attractive.

“If you were any younger I’d be worried about you.” I hear server J. say.

I ask what that was about.

“Oh, he produced a full-sized screwdriver out of his pants pocket and surprised himself. It’s what happens when you are nearly a hundred years old.”

Author: writtencasey

I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer. With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills. I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here. Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.

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