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The Last Plate
Marish
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Prompt
The Last Plate Every evening, Mr. John sat at the same small table in a quiet restaurant. He always ordered two plates of food—one for himself, and one that remained untouched. The waiters whispered about it. Some thought he was lonely. Others thought he was just strange. One night, a new waitress named Lila gathered the courage to ask, “Sir… why do you always order two meals?” Mr. John smiled faintly, his eyes heavy with memories. “The second plate is for my son,” he said. Lila looked around. “But… he never comes.” He nodded slowly. “I know.” After a pause,
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Disposable
art, news, personal or emotional
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Kwame
Maya
