Not too many tables. A counter on one wall for loaners. None of them are there to watch couples break up, but a lot of 'em have witnessed it. They go over to Rosie's, get an Italian soda, go to the deli, turkey and bacon with tomato and mayo, sit down at the counter, maybe reading a novel, and they hear the sniffles, maybe a muted outburst, “Greg, what do you mean, is it me?” But it's never too histrionic. That's one of them words. Something about the deli, the same vibe that lets you know you should get your drinks at Rosie's, lets you know not to make a scene if someone's telling you I think we need to see other people. Once this couple was in there, and this fella, he had an appetite on him. Didn't know the score too well. Asked for a menu. Asked if they had cans of Pepsi. Asked for, and got, two reubens, even though there was no grill and the thousand island was just ketchup and mayo mixed together, which ain't bad, let me tell you, since the sauerkraut is all you really need anyway. So this fella is stuffing his face, and his girl, who, frankly, had traded down, I mean, you knew she was dumping him the minute they walk in, she's all, like, “I think we should see other people, Greg.” Greg. What kinda name is Greg anyway? Anyway, she says that, and he's chewing, and he's like, “Okay. I know this girl at work who's been sniffing around. But you and me, we can still see each other now and again, right?” And she just rolls her eyes, and she says, “That's not what I mean, Greg, I'm sorry,” and she gets up, and she leaves. And this Greg, or whatever, he's sort of starts choking on his sandwich cause he's crying and eating at the same time, and he didn't have no drink. But he managed. And I mean it when I say he managed. He's been in a few times since then, with a few different girls, girls more his speed if you get my drift, dumping them in that deli. The student has become the master. He gets a pastrami on rye with kraut and pickles and ketchup mixed with mayo and he tells these women he thinks they should see other people. And you know what, I'm thinking he's just waiting for one of them to think he means see other people in addition to each other, just so he can say “That's not what I mean,” and he can walk out and never come back. Come to think of it, the pastrami is sometimes a little bit fatty and the roast beef, more than once, has been a bit too salty. I don't really like the place much.
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