Roadside Diner

She sat behind a small mountain of crumpled tissues in the chrome and Naugahyde covered diner that shone like a beacon off the interstate. She had been driving for hours and her desire to pee overwhelmed her desire to not stop at the tacky roadside oasis whose claim to fame was the big sign in the window exclaiming “WE FRY PICKLES!!!” She sniffled a few more times, and then pulled a napkin from the grease coated napkin dispenser on her table where according to the intricate carvings; Moose had sat at in 1996. She dabbed her tear stained eyes, as the waitress, Dot, according to her nametag, refilled her coffee cup for the 5th time. She had no idea why she was crying. It was stupid really. She knew he was cheating on her all the signs where there. The late night phone calls, the unexplained texts, the long hours at work. It was one thing to suspect it, but it was quite another to walk in on her husband going at the red headed tramp doggie style on her 1000 thread count sheets that she had bought on sale. He ran after her when she turned to leave. He tried to explain, and to apologize, and do all the usual bullshit that cheating husbands do. The red headed whore tried to sneak out of the house without incident hoping to maintain what little dignity she had left.
Voices were raised, and a lot of foul language was used as the minutes of awkwardness dragged on and on. She was so angry, and she really didn’t want to cry in front of him, but it just sort of happened, pressure release she guessed, and the tears began to flow. She ran into the bedroom, threw some stuff into a suitcase, and decided she was going to her mother’s for a few days until she could get a lawyer. He actually begged her not to go, and at that moment as she looked at him, she couldn’t even figure out why she was attracted to him in the first place, and he had a weak chin. Random thoughts kept crashing together in her head, and the next thing she knew she was driving down the interstate on her way to her mother’s house, and she realized she had to pee thus bringing her to the diner.
She had to hurry if she was going to make her mother’s house by the morning so she threw a 20 dollar bill onto the table, and hurried out to the parking lot. She was about to get into her car when the deafening blare of a semi-truck horn screamed at her from behind. She turned just in time to see the man in the truck cab desperately trying to regain control. Her eyes grew as big as saucers as it slammed into her, crushing her against her car, popping her trunk open, and spilling the body parts of her husband and the red headed whore into the dust.