A Quiet Seat by the Counter
A gray-haired man pushed open the glass diner door and walked across the checkered tile toward an empty booth.
He wore an olive field jacket bearing a small American flag patch on the sleeve.
He pulled back a chair, set his hands flat on the laminate table, and ordered a cup of black coffee.
Across the room, three men in black leather vests watched him sit down.
The largest of the three rose from his seat, planting his boots heavily on the floor and pointing directly at the table.
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