Alexandra Rovirosa

Ghosts of Memories Past

The unique blend of artificial maple syrup, heavy rewarmed grease, and post-club sweat is always the first thing I notice when I step into the diner. The late staff glance at me as I enter, too tired to give a crap where I sit. There’s none of the perky “Hey, welcome” that comes at two in the afternoon. Everyone knows that you only show up to a diner after 10pm if you’re drunk, in a theatre group, or brokenhearted.