Call It What You Like Then, by Johann Lux

The diner is unusually busy, this Tuesday night.
Seated at a booth by the diner’s egress doors is a fat man reading a newspaper that went out of print three decades ago. My bet: the fat man is a ghost and not the first I’ve seen in this diner.
A young woman spots the ghost and shouts out, “Hey, are you seeing this!”
The ghost disappears. The lady, hysterical, approaches me.
“That guy just vanished,” she stutters.
“Ghosts, they come and go; it’s supernatural.” I smile.
“That’s insane!” she protests.
“There’s no chicken in chicken fried steak,” I point out.


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