(Author’s note: Not much to say. “Quarantine” continues. Enjoy today’s missive!)

©Dale Rogerson

I Miss You

by Miles H. Rost

8:45.

Kristina scanned the half-filled restaurant, bringing her eye to the empty table with the bright pink carnation.

“Hey, Jamie.”

The blonde at the end of the diner counter peeked her head up from under, a clattering of dishes announcing her.

“Have you seen Bart? He’s usually here at 7.”
“You mean table 9. Meatloaf, taters, and corn. Coffee with cream. Key Lime pie,”
“Yeah, that’s him.”

Jamie turner her head, staring out the front door.

“He died this morning. Rolled over to go to sleep, and … there.”

Kristina hung her head. Tears started to fall, as the hole in her heart gaped.