The wind whispered and the cool ocean breeze blew my perfectly parted hair straight into my eyes. My bare feet made contact with the ground, causing a slight sting in every step I took, skimming my feet nonchalantly on the sidewalk with each stride taken. The soles were stabbed by the scalpel-like rocks that were concealed by the cracks in the sidewalk. The ancient building was fractured and broken like Roman ruins as if it was sacked by barbaric tribes. It cowered in front of my outstretched eyes, shadowed by the buildings that neighbored it. The minuscule structure had a coffee cream color, adding a distinctive nostalgia compared to the buildings of modernity around it. It looked like a fish out of water, just like a Toyota next to a pair of Ferraris. The building was labeled “COFFEE SHOP” with the most practical font, and written in capital letters. The nameless place intrigued a multitude of people, along with myself and my family. I opened the thick glass door lazily, and the salty ocean scent quickly changed to an aroma of roses. The roses were blood red, bleeding their beauty on each table under the drooped cage lights and emitting their scent all throughout the dining room and through the cracked windows. Above, lights were imprisoned by a black steel cage that were hung in even rows above the freed roses that laid beneath.The smell of the flowers was quickly suppressed by the smells of coffee, and fresh breakfast. The saltiness of the sea was replaced by the invigorating smell of freshly smoked bacon. 

I took a seat at the breakfast bar with the red leather seats containing the slightest amount of cracks. The dazzling red seats were positioned in a straight line, just like recruits awaiting orders from their sergeants. All of the chairs were installed a foot away from each other, allowing for people to get in and out of their seats with only the occasional bump of knees into another. The seats were supported by a single bar that extended to the bottom of the dining room. The red rows twisted and turned just like a Ferris wheel with a happy couple in each carousel. Each chair spun slowly and steadily, initiating a high pitched squeak. There was a common theme of red. It appeared in almost every item in the bustling area. Signs saying “BACON”, “FRESH BREAKFAST”, “COFFEE” were displayed on the white striped walls that decorated the heavily illuminated room with two stainless steel fans that stood tall on the tin-tiled roof. I sat staring at the relics of the past that were so well preserved in this very place. A large soda cap was pinned to the wall, indicating the name of the diner. The chalkboards stood tall and wide near the entrance, formulated in a near perfect manner, with the letters being the same distance away from each other, in a very orderly set up. The jukeboxes were neatly placed at each table, all preparing to play a throwback when a dime was inserted through the minuscule silver slot. The numbers and letters on the jukebox had faded from all the harsh years it endured, hardly being able to tell which letter was which and what number to select. The spinning circuit of songs in the box was garrisoned by the thinnest layer of glass, ready to be fractured by the slightest touch of a clumsy finger. The spinning item was outlined by a teal hue, mismatching the thin, bright red font the songs were displayed on. The decrepit tins looked like they would be placed on an old woman’s porch, or inside a crammed garage that housed old car parts and many other useless items that had long outlived their usefulness.  

Clouds of smoke erupted from the dark device that was placed in the back of the kitchen. The smoke rushed through the entire restaurant in the blink of an eye, consuming the dimly lit lights that glowed down on the kitchen. The fog cleared out and I could see the stained wall ahead, stretching from top to bottom with rusted grease. The sun glimmered faithfully off the drink station in front of my outstretched eyes. The flash struck my eyes, causing me to squint and see immediate darkness. It was only now that I regarded the feeling of hunger. My eyes were distracted by the abstract and optimistic feeling the restaurant brought to me. I decided to finally scrutinize the theory of the jukebox, composing its brilliant songs and tunes. All I needed was a small silver coin.

A deafening cacophony of sound rang out from the jukebox once I inserted a rusty dime from my Dad’s brown leather wallet. It took an eternity for him to retrieve the ten cents from his pocket after he called the jukebox an old pile. A mild look of frustration in his face was the only exception, as if he had just wasted thousands of dollars at a casino carelessly playing slots.The rhythm of the music strolled calmly through the night, playing at multiple tables at once creating a confusing arrangement of sounds that were once cohesive pieces of music.  The music and the chattering of customers were only interrupted by the loud roars of fighter jets zooming overhead, trembling the bodies of people around. I heard the crescendo of the jets, and through the open paned window, the lights gleamed up in the sky, barely illuminating the military behemoth that streaked through the sky above. The joyous laughter and the optimistic voices of the people brought me happiness, optimism, and a sense of nostalgia about how golden these places once were to American people.