A Finger Pointed At The Chest
A gloved finger jabbed straight into the worn fabric of a military field jacket. The man wearing the sleeveless leather vest leaned forward from the booth, grinning sideways at the two men sitting across from him.
The older man did not step back. His boots stayed planted squarely on the checkered diner floor while laughter erupted from the booth behind the table.
The biker reached out again, tapping the weathered brass buttons and stitched patches. He shook his head and threw his arms out wide to invite the entire dining room into his joke.
Hands On The Medals
A woman seated by the window dropped her fork. She pulled both hands up to cover her mouth as the man in the bandana stepped closer.
The older man pointed a stiff finger back toward his own chest, his jaw tightening as he spoke. He tapped the row of ribbon bars pinned above his pocket.
The biker closed his leather-clad fingers around a bronze cross hanging from a tricolor ribbon. With a sharp tug, the pin snapped away from the jacket.
He held the metal cross up toward the ceiling light, roaring with laughter while waving it in front of the older man’s nose. The veteran stared straight into the man’s eyes, his mouth pressed into a thin, unmoving line.
A Shift In Authority
A tall man wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt stepped through the swinging kitchen doors. He stopped at the edge of the service counter, his arms hanging loose at his sides.
The biker turned toward the newcomer with a smirk. The smirk did not last two seconds.
The older man walked back into the dining area wearing a dark green formal dress uniform, crisp creases running down the sleeves. Medals and service ribbons covered the left side of his chest in orderly rows.
He stopped inches from the booth and extended his arm toward the front door. The biker looked down at the medal in his palm, his shoulders dropping two inches as his head bowed.
Clearing Out The Booth
The biker handed the medal back, his fingers carefully brushing the ribbon as he let go. He tapped the wooden tabletop with an open palm and gestured quickly toward the exit.
His two companions grabbed their jackets from the seat backs and slid out of the booth. One of them knocked a chair sideways against the table in his rush to stand.
The front door swung open and slammed against the doorframe as all three men hurried out onto the sidewalk. The older man stood beside the booth in his dress uniform, watching them clear the parking lot through the front window.
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