It had been three days since I had met Mr. Wilkes.  Tonight, near closing, was when I saw him again, walking through the door, taking the same seat he had then.  While he ordered a drink, I was wiping a table clean from the mess some diners had left.  These delinquents hardly knew how to use a fork, it seemed.  This town was full of low-life criminals.  Very few professionals called this place home.  Without saying a word, we recognize each other, give the respect deserved, and the space desired.  That was a reason I was still working here.  It was a small restaurant.  Frequented by the few I respect, though far between.  Mr. Wilkes, however, was merely a curiosity.  “Evening, Mr. Waiter.”  I nodded at him as I returned to the front after placing the dirty...

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