Sugar Bowl

"These owls, they're everywhere man."

Phil flashed an odd carnival smile at Katy and Robert who had just ambled into the Sugar Bowl, holding hands.  Robert gave Phil a deadpan look and walked to the counter where a kid wearing a hawaiian shirt stood expectantly waiting for his order.  Katy sat down across from him, her green eyes sharply penetrating him before she looked up at the TV in the corner.

The Pope was dying.  For some reason he was always dying here.

The seats were orange, the food was greek, but greasy and often fried.  Phil was picking chunks of onion from his normal gyro out of a greasy paper wrapper.  He looked at her with vague confidence.  "Owls"  he repeated, nodding at the table.

For half a second Katy thought she caught a glimpse of wings moving in the speckled linoleum, but it faded as soon as she focused her eyes on it.  She sighed.  "Look Phil, stop acting all crazy for no damn reason."

Three years ago she had broken up with Robert for three months.  During that time she made out with Phil.  She couldn't remember much, she had been a little drunk at the time, she just remembered worrying his lip some as he awkwardly pawed at her curves.  She knew Phil remembered it every time he looked at her.  He was gnawing his finger nail right now, looking over her shoulder, flashing his eyes to her face and chest.

"Sorry Kat.  I don't mean to worry you."

Suddenly Phil stood up, and walked over to the pinball machine in the corner and waggled the toggles a bit.  There was an "Out of Order" sign on the console, so he didn't put a coin in.  Katy was watching Robert, he knew that.  He never checked, because he knew.

He looked up at the TV.  He could have swore the Pope died last week.  But maybe that kind of stuff just didn't change here.