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Monday At Kelly's Dinner

Thunder rumbled across the heavens as the rain continue to fall. This was the third day in a row of rain; it was as if Mother Nature's tears were washing away the sins of the city, which was probably a good thing. The smell of bacon, eggs and home fries cooking on a grill brought his attention back to his surroundings.

Max took a sip from his coffee mug, raised it up signaling to the waitress that he wanted another refill. As he waited, he flipped open the dog-eared journal.  Turning to a page that had the words scribbled in green ink:


And scribbled underneath it.

Don't let the bastards tell you otherwise.