Arthur Fenn fidgeted with his silverware as he waited eagerly for his breakfast to arrive. “This is the way to start a day off” he thought as he reached across the table and lifted each of the five flavors of syrup in turn. Blueberry, strawberry, pecan, apricot and butter flavors, each a cheery color appropriate to its contents. “But where in the heck is maple?” Arthur wondered, not discontented but merely curious. It was September 9th, his watch read 7:44 AM and in just nine more minutes he would be fifty one years old. He spread his fingers out flat against the smooth table top and examined each in turn with the same intensity as he had just examined the syrup, though with, he supposed, a bit more context.
His fingers were calloused and carried thirty years worth of small scars, the product of the hard labor of a simple steel worker. His knuckles wore a bit more fur than they had when he was a younger man, and Arthur wondered absently if these hairs had migrated to this new home from the top of his head. He wasn’t exactly bald, but the supply of hair follicles he had once enjoyed were clearly running low, and he chuckled for a moment at the memory of performing the fabled “bad comb-over” less than an hour ago.
“So are you nervous about tomorrow?” a middle aged woman asked from Arthur’s right. His waitress had returned with a fresh cup of coffee and his breakfast. Arthur pondered this question for a moment as he surveyed the honey-golden color of the Belgian waffle that now hovered in the air about a foot away. The candied red of the strawberries that glistened in the morning sun and the whipped cream that slowly melted atop the fruit and pastry delight had enraptured Arthur’s attention. In a moment he remembered his manners, however, and replied with a smile, “Nervous? Lisa, what in the world would I have to be nervous about? I’m about to be fifty-one, not ninety-nine!” He chuckled a little and returned his attention to golden-brown heaven.
Lisa smiled and set Arthur’s breakfast down with a tiny “tink” as the plate clicked against the still trembling mug of coffee. “I don’t mean about your age, you crazy old fart,” she laughed, and Arthur chuckled as he waggled his finger in her direction. “Fifty is the new thirty,” he said quickly as his eyes darted around the table in search of his fork.
“Well by that math, I guess that makes me just twenty-one” Lisa said with a smirk as she poured a teaspoon of sugar into Arthur’s coffee. “Be careful, you’re getting sexier by the minute” said Arthur. “Oh be quiet, I haven’t been sexy in years, it’s too much work”. Lisa stirred Arthur’s coffee and watched as he looked around the table, fork already in hand, as if his eyes sought the elusive element that would make his meal truly perfect. “What I meant was, are you nervous about the Large Hadron Super Collider coming online tomorrow”. Arthur stopped his search, a puzzled look upon his face. “I don’t even know what a hadron is, much less a large one” he said. Then it dawned on Arthur what he had missed, and he said with a smile “Powdered sugar!” Lisa stared at Arthur for a moment and an affectionate look washed over her face as her lips softened into a smile. “Well it’s going to create a black hole and swallow the world” she said; “be right back”. She turned with a flourish and stepped toward the kitchen for his powdered sugar.
Arthur decided to risk a bite before she returned, black hole or not, and with a quick motion he pressed his fork down. He felt the pleasing crunch of waffle mixed with the succulent squish of candied strawberry, all wrapped in the joyful sweetness of freshly whipped cream. He lifted the fork and began the slow process of savoring the first of what would be many bites of ecstasy, a flavor that seemed roughly equal parts crunch and squish and swish, with just a hint of suckle at the very end.
“You don’t even care what I’m talkin’ about, do you?” said Lisa as she returned with the powdered sugar and Arthur smiled. “Nope,” he smiled as he accepted the small glass shaker and began to enthusiastically season the remains of his breakfast. Lisa shook her head and turned away, unable to help but smile at this semi-bald older gentleman who seemed genuinely lost in Belgian paradise. “Whatever happens tomorrow,” thought Arthur as he glanced at his watch and saw it was 7:53 AM, “today I have waffles“.