Coffee Shops and Astronauts

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They sat on the faded red leather seats of the diner and traded stories over lukewarm coffee. Michael couldn’t believe the diner was still there to begin with. It had been over forty years since he had been there last, though it had certainly changed since then.

“When I was last here, it was still a milk bar, you know.” He said, staring at the stained 1960’s wallpaper. It was as if they had given up entirely on keeping up with the trends, at least in the past four decades. The décor, even the service, seemed perennially frozen in time.

“You’re probably too young to know what one those was.” He continued, “But back in the 1940’s, during the cold war, that was where all the young kids hung out. You know, kids about you’re age.” He said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his granddaughter. “It was like going to the mall, I guess. Well, anyway, I remember my mother sending me down there with a dollar and I’d buy all sorts of candy with that! Can you imagine? One dollar. You could buy twenty Jolly Jacks for that price back then!” And this was Emily’s cue to react with surprise.

“Really? Twenty? You can’t even buy a mars bar for that much now.” She replied, with just the right amount of astonishment.

“Exactly!” He replied, clearly pleased with the nice little fact she had decided to throw in there. “Gosh, those companies,” He grumbled, “They charge a fortune, and for what?” and that’s when she tuned out. She patiently waited out his rant. She figured he was sufficiently warmed, so she could get to the actual questions. If there was something she had learnt about her grandfather it was that you couldn’t jump straight into the deep end and expect answers. You had to work for them.

“Now, what was that school project your mother mentioned you had? You wanted to ask me some questions, is that right?”

“Yep, that’s right,” Emily nodded, “I just want to ask you a few things about your childhood.”

“Ask away, then.” He replied, smiling genially as he sipped the dregs of his coffee, the milk already congealing on the surface. He didn’t seem to notice.

“First of all, what inspired you to become an astronaut?”

“Ah, I thought you might ask that.” He said, rummaging through his jacket pockets, pulling out a set of car keys and a Swiss army knife before placing two faded photographs on the coffee table. She pulled them over towards her. From what she could see, one was simply a black and white image of the Milky Way, the other a grainy photograph of the earth as seen from space.

“That one,” he said, pointing to the one of the Milky Way, “was given to me when I was seven, in this very place.”