The Corner Booth

by Leah Jones

Everyone thought that I was just a bus boy and I operated as one for seven years. It was a good cover and the corner booth at the Greek diner soon became a safe place. Quietly, I protected the family, refilled coffee, cleaned tables and passed information. I was so quiet, the waitresses thought I was a mute, but they could trust me to turn a table in less than three minutes. I was so quiet, the family thought I was deaf and they could trust me to hear everything and say nothing. So quiet, that when I slipped into a car moments before the explosion, nobody ever asked what happened to the bus boy.


Leah Jones is a writer and occasional talker who writes at Accidentally Jewish, Shebrew and Jewish Fringe. Once upon a time, she was a chemist.


Anonymous said...

I have no idea what this story is about. I get that it's alluding to the mafia, but it's really unclear.

Leah in Chicago said...

Thanks for reading Anonymous.

cory said...