. . .the waitress returned and escorted him to the table. "Honey," she said, "I'll be right back to take your order."
"No rush." Charley sat down and scanned the noisy crowd surrounding him, felt a little less lonely. The plastic menu was wedged between the napkin holder and a catsup bottle.
When he opened it, a piece of folded paper dropped out and hit the table. He unfolded it and read: Whoever sees this note – help, please! 4875 Lost Lane. Sara
Charley read the scrawled words three…four…five times…and felt his heart accelerate. A cry for help. Sara's last name was illegible, as if the note were snatched from her hand. He put the square of paper facedown on the table, as if it were top secret, for his eyes only. His thoughts spun as he faced the plate glass window, seeing traffic breeze by. And seeing his reflection in the glass, seeing the man he’d become and not the man he wanted to be. And maybe tonight was a turning point. He could feel a flame ignite inside his chest.
five pages. Five minutes. Takes longer to download than it does to read, almost. Short story, free on Amazon.