A street empty of people.Just the all night diner is open.Plain, devoid of sentimentality.A sickly greenish light streams through plate
glass windows.A man sits smoking, his eyes looking
straight ahead, expressionless.The woman with him appears more interested in a
matchbook cover than in his company.
A third customer, a man alone with his
back to us, his shoulders hunched.A
faceless man in a gray suit. Behind the counter, a young man in a
white uniform, a sharp contrast to the darkly dressed customers.He's busy with the dishes and appears to be
speaking. Perhaps to himself. No one seems to be listening.