Even the untruths of our minds manifest into reality. . .
Amos called an unofficial employee meeting over by the bar. This was our first day back open. It had been nearly a year since his daughter, Amelie went missing from his home in the Bronx. They labeled her a juvenile delinquent, claimed she left the state with a man twice her age.
We squished in tightly together to hear what he had to say.
The Pinball machine startled us all as the lever pulled back and sent the ball flying up the incline. It rolled quickly down, hitting the contraptions in the center of the machine, causing multiple loud sounds in unison. The side buttons maneuvered in and out on their own so that the flippers would reverse the ball back into the maze. I tried to ignore it. But, no one was actually playing the game!
Even Amos lost his focus when the old Wurlitzer jukebox lit up a pink and blue and then the arm retreated down to grab a forty five. The record, sent spinning, belting out Del Shannon’s – Runaway. A song I was too young to enjoy but, had heard many times.
Amos’ began to stutter his words, his brow covered in perspiration. I supposed he was reminiscing on all the time his daughter spent playing pinball and music here at the cafe’. I, myself wanted to cry.
The front windows were open, allowing for a gentle breeze to flow in. A line of customers began to build at the door. The electricity flickered on and off but, both machines continued to work.
Amos, frightened and anxiety ridden, put both of his hands tightly around his forehead. “Please just stop!” He yelled. Then came the words that stunned us all. He apologized to Amelie for his jealousy and for how he killed her in a fit of rage.
The front door flew open and what we believed to be customers was actually SWAT. They took him into custody. I will never forget the sergeant leaning in towards me and whispering “There’s nothing these technically savvy people can’t do these days.” I guess he was right. Amos is headed to prison and we are no longer open for business.
Leesa Writes 