Heater

"Would you like another heater, Ralph?"

Madge, the waitress, offered to add some hot coffee to Ralph's half-empty cup on the diner's linoleum counter. Behind her, racked, were the assorted pies, the lemon meringue with only two slices left.

"I'll take some." Ralph half-smiled. "I guess that's like you, Madge."

"What'd you mean?

"You like your coffee hot, and your men hotter."

Bracing herself on the counter, Madge stared at him. Would Al leave anything more than a 10% tip? What were the chances?

"I guess we're a little different. You go for the lukewarm guys, don't you, Al?"

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Happy New Year

The wind is howling, and the snow is heavy. New Year’s Eve and Times Square are scarce with the host’s expression one of weariness.

No one is here to celebrate, the weather keeping them home and comfortable by the television, probably sipping hot coffee as I’m doing, or maybe drinking wine or champagne to ring in the coming year.

I have the fireplace lit, bringing more warmth to my cold apartment. My dog Gatsby sits beside me, and we’re snuggled under a blanket.

The countdown begins.

And as the host gets to one, the electricity goes out.

Happy New Year.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher