orley Munson walked into the busy diner and plopped down onto a seat. He called out to a waitress and asked for coffee and inquired as to what time it was (this was just the beginning of his visible attempts to create an alibi for himself). The gorgeous young waitress smiled at him, called out the hour and minute and brought him a steaming cup of java while continuing to service the entire counter around him.
Morley Munson had just finished prepping his coffee (he favoured cream over milk but sweetener over sugar) when a hand fell onto his shoulder. He turned and looked into the eyes of the local detective who had been badgering him of late. He nodded toward the man and said “Hello.” They talked for a moment about the weather and a few other innocuous topics until the local detective paid for his meal and walked out.
Morley Munson looked down at his left hand. He saw now that he had been holding his own napkin so tightly that red spots of blood were showing through the paper– he had literally pierced his skin with his nails as he was discussing trout fishing and the freakishly warm weather they’d been having.
Morley Munson was now looking at the menu when he felt a pair of eyes upon him. He looked up quickly, ready for trouble, when he noticed the pretty young waitress standing across from him. Staring at him. She smiled when their eyes met and she moved quickly to him when he nodded he was ready to order. They exchanged a few more pleasant words (most of them to help solidify his whereabouts at lunch) and she even gently touched his hand when she saw his soiled napkin.
Morley Munson felt something stirring in his small (cold) heart.