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Eating the Friday

Frank sat at a table reading a novel. He was behind in his reading of a series of books from an author that he admired, and this downtime was what he needed to catch up. Some quiet time, some coffee. 

His cup of coffee steaming before him, ordered a few minutes previous from the waitress. Goner was drumming his fingers on the table; he was bored and it showed. He didn't know what he wanted to do, and it was getting to him.

"Go to the movies," Frank told him, hoping the suggestion would embed in Goner's brain.

Goner thought about it for a few seconds before answering, the suggestion disappearing into the night like a cheap magician, "Nah."

Frank flipped the page of the novel and sighed. It was going to be one of those evenings.

"Any word from Max?" Goner asked. "He's been gone for a good long time."

Frank ignored the question. He was sure that he had answered that one about an hour earlier.

"Is Maggie showing up here?" Goner asked, his fingers were drumming out a beat. It was starting to grate on Frank's nerves.

"I really don't know," Frank stated. "Think of it as a night off, go and do something constructive with your free time."

Goner glanced around the coffee shop; he really didn't know what to do. It had been steady going for the past three months and now the past three days had been quiet.

"You know a man gets conditioned to certain things," Goner told Frank.

Frank put the book down and looked up at Goner. "Don't make me have to shoot you, Goner."