Edge of the Earth

The waitress picked up the check, turned it over, and gave me a look of disgust. She was one of those punk-rock looking teenagers with dyed red hair and tattoos of black and red and white flowers covering her arms, down to her wrist. "Really, man? A dollar tip on a twenty dollar meal?" I said nothing and stared back at her with a blank expression. I wasn't in the mood. She shook her head and walked away. I watched her, hips swaying back and forth seductively as she stormed back into the kitchen. While she was cute, her attitude was certainly not going to get any more money out of me. I took a last sip of my coffee and folded up the newspaper I was reading but not comprehending, and tucked it under my arm.

I headed for the door and exhaled sharply as I stepped outside, bells on the diner door jingling behind me. It was a cold December morning and I had no idea where I was. I had lost my bearings and my memory sometime last night. Come to think of it, I had no idea who I was. All I knew was I was really hungry, I had a newspaper, and I had 20 dollars in my pocket. Conveniently, I woke up in front of this specific diner and this, at least, solved one of my pressing issues. Now to figure out who and where I am. 

I looked around. There was snow on the ground and more coming from the sky. The diner seemed to be located at the center of a rural town. It must have been still early in the morning, as the sun hovered just on the horizon, peeking over just enough to throw beams of magnificent light across the landscape. The lights reflected in the windows of the local storefronts as owners were just now entering their workplaces. In my immediate area was a bar, a hardware store, a drug store, a shoe store, and a peculiar looking statue of Atlas holding up the Earth. Though I would have loved a strong drink or a pair of the latest trending shoes, I realized I had no money and decided to check out the statue in greater detail. 

Somehow, I remembered that Atlas was a titan in Greek mythology that was said to hold up the heavens as punishment for something or another. Normally, I would have thought nothing of this statue. The craftsmanship was nothing special. Yet, I was drawn nearer and nearer to the sculpture. It seemed to radiate. It almost glowed. 

The sound of somebody clearing their voice from behind me interrupted my concentration. "Uh... excuse me, sir, but you need to maintain a respectable distance from that there statue." The voice belonged to a pimply-faced, young cop who was probably fresh out of the training academy. I looked the officer up and down. Lanky and gaunt, he did not present much of a threat. He fondled something in his back pocket nervously and his eyes conveyed his uneasiness. I wasn't sure how threatening I appeared, but I shrugged and backed away from the statue.

Confident that I obeyed his orders, lankylegs strode up to me. "You from around here?" I shrugged, giving him the same blank expression that I had given the waitress earlier. This made him frustrated. "Look, buddy. I'm just trying to do my job. Cut me some slack and answer my questions." Again, I shrugged. He sighed heavily and stormed back to his cop car, slid into the driver seat, and took off. Fresh out of the academy, he now knew the realities of being a police officer when it came to the public showing respect.