Flat Surf, Sunrise Breakfast

There was no surf today, so we turned around and headed back to town. At 6:00am, there's only one show in town, the Bake Shoppe. Normally, I avoid places that misspell words in order to appear quaint, but when you want coffee you tend to overlook such minor details.

I got the coffees as my friend ordered breakfast. He was ordering an egg sandwich. The surprisingly friendly (remember, it's 6:00am) counter man said, "You guys can go sit outside and we'll call you when it's ready."

I stepped just outside the Shoppe and into the morning. The sun was straddling the horizon and a slight onshore wind was blowing. I watched a flag flap across the street. A car engine was idling nearby and the sound from the refrigeration compressors in the Bake Shoppe buzzed. I heard a muffled order being placed at the counter. A car drove down Main Street, tires humming, and a bird blinked by, probably a House Sparrow.

"Tom?" The man called from inside the Bake Shoppe.

A man, who was not "Tom" but was standing at the doorway of the Shoppe looked at me and questioned, "Tom?" I in turn looked at a man who was leaning into the passenger side window of his car reaching for something on the seat and asked, "Tom?" He turned, "Yep!" and the window of the Bake Shoppe opened and an arm reached out to hand him his white bag that was filled with egg sandwiches.

I sat down on a bench.

"I like this place," I told my friend. "It has a real blue collar type of feel to it."

"Yeah? It kind of freaks me out... everyone looks like they're related."

The window to the Shoppe slid open and the man called my friends name. White bag in hand, we stepped back into the car and drove home with the sun rising behind us.

Hair dry.