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Captioned Images Series: Miss Manners
Created: 12/01/2024
The diner buzzed with a familiar charm, its retro decor a throwback to a bygone era. Bright cream vinyl seats lined the low-slung booths and tables, gleaming under the fluorescent lights that flickered occasionally, casting a soft glow over the black-and-white checkerboard floor. The scent of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, mingling with the distant jingle of a pinball machine and the soft notes of Elvis playing on the jukebox.
In the midst of this all-American atmosphere, a gaudy booth was occupied by two men, thickset and boisterous, mouths brimming with laughter and disdain. Their loud, cocky banter filled the diner as they pointed out a striking woman who strolled by their table, the click of her heels echoing on the tile floor. She carried herself with an air of confidence; her hair swung gently at her shoulders, and a simple dress accentuated her graceful figure.
As she passed, the men unleashed a volley of rude comments. “Hey, sweetheart, where’s the fire?” one man jeered, while the other elbowed his companion and snickered, “How’d you get that figure eating here?” Laughter erupted between them, echoing in a way that caused heads to turn, but they cared little for the attention they attracted.
The woman paused, her expression shifting from surprise to simmering annoyance. She turned her gaze towards the two men, her eyes narrowing slightly. An invisible tension filled the space as she stood there, considering her next move. In those brief moments, she envisioned all the retorts she could unleash—witty comebacks that could slice through their bravado like a knife.
Yet, instead of engaging their taunts, she settled for a steady, unwavering glare that spoke of self-respect and indignation. The silence stretched between them, a silent protest against their rudeness. If only she had the words to teach them some manners, to show them the error of their ways.
With a final lingering glance, she inhaled deeply, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. There was no need to stoop to their level. Resuming her stride, she walked away, holding her head high and her dignity intact. The red seats and white tables of the diner surrounded her, vigilant witnesses to the exchange, as she made her way toward the counter, leaving the men to their laughter—a laughter that now felt hollow in contrast to her grace.
A moment later, the two men's attitude as well as their apparel changed. Their manners were transformed into those of ladies in the 1950s like their grandmothers had been. They were wearing red and white floral U-neck dresses with a choker and full skirt, red pumps with a modest one-and-a-half inch heel, dangling earrings, and pristine white elbow-length gloves. Their permed hair was as perfect as excessive hair stray could make it. Their boisterous natures were gone as they quietly sipped tea from fancy cups.
After the lady had disappeared out the door, the two men picked up their purses and they got up. They wanted to go to the powder room to check on their makeup before leaving themselves.
End.
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