americanstalker
Witness
Mike Keppler meets a woman that just night stop his running.
Mike Keppler was used to running from his past, hoping to leave it all behind. But no matter what, he never could. He went from Trenton to Philly to Baltimore to Las Vegas, and his past kept on cropping up. He was well-liked at work, but never got out other than that. The reason for this was due in part to physical and emotional exhaustion. Nightmares gave him difficulty sleeping, and he had to use what little energy he had for work. However, one day he met someone who would eventually stop his running.
He met her at a diner one morning, while having breakfast. They were both sitting at the counter. She sat down next to him, said hi, and then ordered a Diet Coke before looking over the menu. She looked young, like she was maybe twenty. She had boyishly short brown hair, blue eyes, and a thin build, and wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans with a Chicago Cubs hat.
“They make good omelets here”, Marion commented while looking over the menu. The investigator nodded in response while enjoying his breakfast of eggs Benedict. She ordered one with cheese, tomatoes, and green peppers before replacing the menu. Mike gave her a disgusted look and said “Ew”.
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Oh, by the way, my name is Marion”, she introduced herself, extending a hand.
“Mike”, he replied, shaking it. She told him she was from Chicago, and moved here for a “change of scenery”. She worked the graveyard shift at a nearby Safeway supermarket, and studied criminal justice online.
When her food came, they talked a little more. Mike asked her why she liked to work the graveyard shift.
“I do my best work at night. Besides, it’s nice and quiet at the store, so I can get plenty done,” Marion explained. “What about you? Do you work nights?”
“For now, yes. I just got here from Baltimore, and I’m taking over for the night shift while their supervisor is away. I’m going to switch to days when he comes back. Oh, I work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab.”
“Cool, I kind of hope to work there once I get my degree. Heaven knows I’m sick and tired of working at Safeway.”
“What do you do there, exactly?” He asked.
“I work in the produce section,” Marion replied while she took a bite of her omelet. “So you’re from Baltimore?”
“No, Trenton. I’ve been all over the Eastern Seaboard. I’m glad to be away from there.” Mike told his new friend.
This made Marion curious. She then asked him where he was before. He told her that he had also lived in Philadelphia between Trenton and Baltimore.
“Well, a word of warning, in any event. The pizza here is horrible.”
“How would you know about good pizza?”
“Hey, I’m from Chicago, and I’d like to think I know something about good pizza and good hot dogs.” She then told him about a few hot dog places in the town, and how they most definitely were nothing compared to the ones in Chicago.
“They don’t put dill pickles on them or seasoning salt. They also put ketchup on them. That is just total –“
“Sacrilege? I know, that is something you don’t do even in the Tri-State area. It’s one thing if you put it on a little kid’s hot dog, but otherwise, it’s just plain wrong”.
At last, about an hour later, Marion told Mike that she had to go home to do her homework and get some sleep and got up to pay. Before that, they exchanged phone numbers and other contact information, and promised to talk again soon.
Mike Keppler was used to running from his past, hoping to leave it all behind. But no matter what, he never could. He went from Trenton to Philly to Baltimore to Las Vegas, and his past kept on cropping up. He was well-liked at work, but never got out other than that. The reason for this was due in part to physical and emotional exhaustion. Nightmares gave him difficulty sleeping, and he had to use what little energy he had for work. However, one day he met someone who would eventually stop his running.
He met her at a diner one morning, while having breakfast. They were both sitting at the counter. She sat down next to him, said hi, and then ordered a Diet Coke before looking over the menu. She looked young, like she was maybe twenty. She had boyishly short brown hair, blue eyes, and a thin build, and wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans with a Chicago Cubs hat.
“They make good omelets here”, Marion commented while looking over the menu. The investigator nodded in response while enjoying his breakfast of eggs Benedict. She ordered one with cheese, tomatoes, and green peppers before replacing the menu. Mike gave her a disgusted look and said “Ew”.
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Oh, by the way, my name is Marion”, she introduced herself, extending a hand.
“Mike”, he replied, shaking it. She told him she was from Chicago, and moved here for a “change of scenery”. She worked the graveyard shift at a nearby Safeway supermarket, and studied criminal justice online.
When her food came, they talked a little more. Mike asked her why she liked to work the graveyard shift.
“I do my best work at night. Besides, it’s nice and quiet at the store, so I can get plenty done,” Marion explained. “What about you? Do you work nights?”
“For now, yes. I just got here from Baltimore, and I’m taking over for the night shift while their supervisor is away. I’m going to switch to days when he comes back. Oh, I work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab.”
“Cool, I kind of hope to work there once I get my degree. Heaven knows I’m sick and tired of working at Safeway.”
“What do you do there, exactly?” He asked.
“I work in the produce section,” Marion replied while she took a bite of her omelet. “So you’re from Baltimore?”
“No, Trenton. I’ve been all over the Eastern Seaboard. I’m glad to be away from there.” Mike told his new friend.
This made Marion curious. She then asked him where he was before. He told her that he had also lived in Philadelphia between Trenton and Baltimore.
“Well, a word of warning, in any event. The pizza here is horrible.”
“How would you know about good pizza?”
“Hey, I’m from Chicago, and I’d like to think I know something about good pizza and good hot dogs.” She then told him about a few hot dog places in the town, and how they most definitely were nothing compared to the ones in Chicago.
“They don’t put dill pickles on them or seasoning salt. They also put ketchup on them. That is just total –“
“Sacrilege? I know, that is something you don’t do even in the Tri-State area. It’s one thing if you put it on a little kid’s hot dog, but otherwise, it’s just plain wrong”.
At last, about an hour later, Marion told Mike that she had to go home to do her homework and get some sleep and got up to pay. Before that, they exchanged phone numbers and other contact information, and promised to talk again soon.
