It wasn’t necessarily a bad part of town, but it wasn’t a good one. Most of the buildings here were run down and the people just didn’t care enough to worry about that. Mama Frida’s was one such place. Sure the food was amazing- her meat stew could make a god beg- but there was a clientele expected at these kinds of places. Which is why she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the group seated at the corner, near the window shot through by a stray bullet once.
The man filled out his grey suit rather nicely. Mama Frida’s was well known, and it wasn’t unusual to find men and women in suits eating there during the weekdays at lunchtime. What was unusual about today was that today was Sunday, and the man had two children with him. A boy of about five and a girl who looked twice that age.
None of them spoke to each other. In fact, none of them even looked at each other. There was a heavy cloud of melancholy over all three of them, as was evidenced by the greyish pallor they all spotted and the fact that none of them seemed to be noticing anything that was going on around them. The food she’d served them just minutes before sat congealing by their elbows.
She didn’t know them and she doubted she’d ever see them again, but she felt sorry for the man who looked at the grey iron sheet wall of the eatery as if it held all the answers to life. She hoped, just for today, it did.
Literati prompt: GREY,in 500 words or less.
Word count: 274