“Say, fella,” the tiny blond woman in the pink striped uniform of the professional waitress said, “I know it’s not quite closing time, but it’s been a long day, so, if y’all wouldn’t mind...”

The fire hydrant with limbs and sandy hair’s smile was electric. “No problem,” he said, taking one last slurp from a long empty milkshake (vanilla—don’t judge). “It’s just been a lazy kind of day... Mona,” the man read the name tag on the woman’s uniform. “The kind of day when contemplating the world’s problems is much more inviting than making any kind of effort to solve them—know what I mean?”

“You’re tryna talk your way to closing time?” Mona smiled.

“You got me,&rdq...

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