Something new.

I'm the only person in the restaurant that doesn't speak Polish.  The walls were decorated by a 5 year olds Easter art class, and the furnishings were donations from a 1970's homeless shelter. I pay $1.50 for a soda.  They don't have any more meatloaf, so I order the roast beef dinner, with mashed potatoes, and a side of 3 different variations of cabbage salad.  I am accompanied by my reflection on any one of the million mirrors that wrap around the dining area along the upper half of the walls. 

    I immediately miss the Polish restaurant down the street, with the cozy atmosphere and deer heads on the wall; the more affordable entrées and the readily available supply of meatloaf, and beautiful presentation. 

   But this new place, well, nothing quite reinforces what you already love, other than something new eliminating itself as its competition. 

I ask the waitress how to say hello.  She replies: "chinobre," at least that's How it sounded.   I tell her the roast beef is delicious.  I sit here for almost 2 hours, chewing and typing. And I'm looking forward to a nap, when I get home.