A prominent grin pasted Kyra’s peach lips, her yellow-nailed palms clasping the width of a paper pad in a lax manner. She gazed warmingly, her dappled eyes drinking in the customer’s slumped frame.

Kyra placidly mused over his appearance, skimming over his physical quirks: ruffled chestnut curls, frequently darting blue eyes, and crumpled leather jacket.  The epitome of ‘rugged,’ She thought, amusedly, inwardly referencing her personal plethora of cliched ‘bad-boy’ novels.

Shifting within her pink apron, the diner logo plastered upon her cotton-cloaked chest, she quirked an evenly plucked brow upward. “So, what’s it going to be?” She inquired kindly, grasping for a Sharpie.

The rugged boy gazed at Kyra, calloused hands shoved within the crevices of his jacket pockets, pursing his plump lips. “A grilled cheese sandwich and black coffee.” He stated, then noticing her abrupt frown, her brows furrowed in expectancy. “...please!”

She curled her mouth, leisurely, into a dimpled smile, hastily scribbling his order, and handing it over to the line-cook’s utter pleasing.

Her polished kitty heels pinched the wide pads of her mani-pedi toes, as she clacked toward the coffee pot.

As she grasped the handle, a decrepit radio situated itself precariously upon the lip of the buffed countertop, Louis Armstrong belting through its crippled speakers.

I see trees of green, and red roses too. Kyra placidly hummed in melodic synchrony to the static-deluged tune, her voluminous curls framing her plump cheeks as she poured the brew, fluidly, into a porcelain cup.     

“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world!” Kyra sang alongside Louis, depositing the coffee and helping of grilled cheese.

The boy calculated her expression, her cheeky nude-lipped grin, and somber voice perfectly harmonic with the scratchy jazz.

“You a fan of him?” He questioned, muffled by the wad of cheddar and thick white bread coaxing his mouth as he took a bite.

Kyra’s grin blossomed into a pearly-white beam. He coughed as his heart began to palpitate in quickening speed.

“Indeed,” she chirped, re-buffing the granite counter, the scent of margarine and soap wafting through her wide nostrils. “There’s something hypnotic about his voice.”

“Are you?” Kyra inquired, pausing her buffing in mid-wipe, and tucking a strawberry-blonde curl behind her ear.

The boy, engrossed within another delectable bite of grilled cheese, suddenly noticed her unwavering stare.  

He cleared his throat, quickly swallowing. “Am I what?” He coughed repetitively, his cheeks tinted pink.

A smirk curled at the waitress’s lips, resuming her buffing and shaking her head. “Are you a fan?”

A sheepish grin plastered the boy’s soft lips as he sipped his coffee in mock thought, his denim-clad legs chafing the crimson stool leather.

“Nah,” he answered, promptly, his pale skin enveloped within the glare of the fluorescent tubes. “I’ve always been more of a Sinatra kind of guy.” He thrusted his empty plate toward Kyra.

The waitress clucked her tongue, chucking the dinnerware into the already crammed dish bin. “What’s your name?’ She inquired, resuming her buffing.

“Andrew.” The customer replied, fishing his jacket pockets for some paper bills, his sharp jaw clenched in thought.

“Well Andrew,” Kyra chirped, receiving his crumpled cash. She stuffed her rag into the crevice of her pink apron pocket. “Everyone is entitled to their opinions, whether they may be wrong…” She joked, curling her mouth into the subtle lines of a smirk.

Kyra pivoted her direction toward the dish bin, Andrew’s raspy chuckle thrumming her ears.

“Well, it was nice having a chat with you, even if it was pretty short…” the boy huskily concluded, chestnut curls littering the wide expanse of his forehead.

Kyra turned, a sad smile pasted her nude lips. “Yeah…” Her heart thumped in sorrowful beat. She crinkled her nose, attempting to mask her desperation.

Entranced, Andrew clasped Kyra’s pruny hand.

They’ll learn much more than I’ll never know Louis rasped, seemingly encouraging the rugged boy as he crooned through the radio.

He pecked her skin, his nude lips tingling with the impression of soap and perfume.

Kyra’s heart thumped in rapidity, a burgeoning warmth deluged her cheeks. She smiled sheepishly.

Andrew winked, leisurely returning his hand to his burly frame. He strode out through the threshold of the diner. The brass bell ringing in confirmation of his exit.

As Kyra’s mind probed with his angelic appearance, she glimpsed at a scrap of paper plastering the marred counter alongside Andrew’s coffee cup. She gingerly grasped it, skimming the inked scrawl and grinning.

(405)-385-3256

Xoxo, Louis Armstrong

Kyra’s ivory-green eyes flickered with delight and anxiousness as she clutched the paper fragment, jumping upon the heels of her leather shoes and gnawing her nude lips.

And I think to myself what a wonderful world, Armstrong chorused as the waitress retrieved her rag, stuffing the snippet of paper into her stiff cotton pocket of her apron. Kyra resumed her buffing, skin caked with goosebumps.

And yes, I think to myself what a wonderful world.