I work at Tom's diner. I have been a waiter there since I was about twenty. I'm twenty five now. I suppose in my time I could have moved on, looked for a more rewarding job, something that pays better and had some kind of prospects. But work at Tom's Diner is more than most people will have you believe - I don't mean it's a particularly enjoyable job...cleaning up after messy customers, collecting glasses and serving people that don't say please or thank you. No I mean the different types of customers who frequent the diner, and the stories they tell. By that I am not saying they tell those stories to me, but more that I see the stories in them, by how they dress, behave or speak with each other - even if I am not close enough to hear their conversations, I can imagine a world they are from, the jobs they might do and the things that take place in their lives.

Often I sit on my stool, eating a donut I had kept to one side for break time, and wonder if that woman sitting alone in the corner table, eating a BLT and looking out of the window - is she married? Has her boyfriend or that guy she has a crush on at the office, realised how pretty she is and how much mystery there is in her face, her expression?

I wonder all of these things.

You might think it weird, but how do you know others aren't doing the same, observing, thinking and imagining? We all have our own private thoughts; just not everyone writes them down and tells someone else about them. These people I think of though, they don't have names...I don't concern myself with the facts - its more fun to think, hey, this woman might leave here and meet the man of her dreams, or finally find the courage to ask out that guy she has a crush on (or course I don't know there is a guy, or a crush, or if she's married or not - but she may be all of these things, or none of them).

Then there's the young boy, no older than twelve who always gets a milk shake at lunch time - he doesn't come in with a group of friends, so my imagination goes wondering - why hasn't he got friends with him? Is he lonely? He always looks happy, even if he doesn't say much - but who would he say it to? I sometimes think about going over and talking to him. Then again, I could be wrong, and he could be popular. I like to think though, that really he's like me, a thinker, a private person, who enjoys his own little world, with his things in them, and he's happy in that world, he's adjusted himself. Its not so bad really, not having that many people to confide in - it leaves space for your own thoughts and in some ways, a freedom that can't be controlled. You are free.

I finish my donut, and return behind the counter...only three more hours until I finish for the day, then I can get on with that book, finish that videogame (or maybe neither of these), or I could talk to the girl who works in the bookshop next door - not that I have ever talked to her. You see, I am much the same as the people I observe, I imagine things for myself - but will I actually ever do them? Sometimes I am afraid of change, or of what might happen if I step outside of my usual routine.

Still, there's that old man, his weathered features telling a thousand stories, of when he worked down that mine pit, and ate coal and lived through a Monty Python sketch saying ‘we were grateful'. I smile and sometimes chuckle to myself, and get weird looks from my work colleagues. I don't care though...they don't have control over my thoughts, only over what I do and what tips I make and if I am late or well or off sick. Anything other than that is up to me, and that's how I prefer it. The old man, probably younger than his face says, sits drinking coffee, and sometimes spends a few hours in the same seat. He's alone too, yet he looks content, at peace with his life, and enjoys sitting, reading a news paper, giving his unspoken opinions on the world from what he reads - but doesn't voice them. I like him. He's one of the more fascinating customers, and is in regular, everyday in fact. I have got used to what he orders, how he takes his coffee, and what time he arrives. I think he must drink a little too, and I smell it on him, but not overly - he's not a drunk, he just finds comfort in a bottle of Whisky now and then. No harm in that.

As afternoon draws darker, the young couple who turn up about once a week come in, and order a meal. They are quiet, obviously not newly in love - I find people like that annoying. These two are happy in each other's company, and sit talking for ages before they order. I give them their space, and watch over them, with a little envy, which I know is wrong. I should be happy with my own lifestyle, who cares if I never say anything to that girl next door? Will the reality be as sweet as the fantasy? The way these two are, doesn't look like the big important what everyone wants, and how many people do you know who are truly happy with each other? I've been there though, and it doesn't seem to suit me. I'm not saying it never will, because like this couple - something happened in their lives that brought them together, and it worked out. Fate. It has a plan for all of us.

So what comes of them once they leave here, each week? Do they just go home, or are they really secret agents, whisked off to a mission in a foreign country, like Brad Pitt & Angelina Jolie - not knowing each other are spies? I like that, but looking at how the guy is a little overweight, he's not about to be kicking the ass of drug barons in the middle east, now is he? Perhaps he's a politician? There are so many angles these two could have, so much to decipher...sometimes my head hurts from the myriad of possibilities. Couples, unlike the lonely looking boy or the old man, or the woman in the corner, are harder to read...but its still fun trying.

Perhaps the boy is at home playing videogames, or maybe he's a book worm and his parents can't afford a game system for him, and argue over money and don't get on, and he cries himself to sleep and gets bullied at school. Would explain why he's always alone. I get sad when I think like that and wished I could help. Perhaps the woman in the corner has a son who doesn't have any friends, and they could be introduced? Or the old man could introduce him to his grand-son or grand-daughter. When I observe these people, I wonder if their lives could be enhanced if they knew each other and interacted, got involved in each other's lives? What effect would that have? Would the atmosphere in the diner suddenly change? Would they sit together? Or would they not get on, and stop coming to the diner so not to bump into one another? Actually, it could be a disaster, and the lives I have imagined for these people, the stories I have created for them, it would all end. No they mustn't become friends...it would ruin everything.

Evening draws in, and I finish the last few dishes in the wash basin, and then dry my hands. The woman I work with is almost like a Mother to me, and doesn't pry or ask questions. She seems ok that I don't speak that much or join the others on nights out. She likes me for who I am. I am happy, in my thoughts and in my own little world - some say it's wrong that people like me don't interact - but maybe we are interacting, just privately. We are observing, aware of the world and what people think, do or say, and it all matters to some extent. Yet those like me, also see probably more than the people who are talking, interacting, and socialising, and have seen and heard more than they might ever do. We have our place in the world, and we make a difference too - it's just that not everyone knows it - but so what? It doesn't matter if the man who serves you coffee has figured out all your little secrets - it's his choice, and anyway, he might be wrong - or if he is right, so what? What you got so secret you really need to hide it from the world?

I pocket what tips have been shared out to me - it's been a good day, I realise, in more ways than one and I say goodbye and grab my coat, leaving through the back door that customers don't use, and begin my walk home. I am happy, thinking of the people I have met today and what they might be doing right now, where did they go after they left the diner? What worlds are they from? What are their stories? There's enough material there to fill up anyone's life.

I'm not lonely or bored or unhappy - I have too much to think about.