SF Drabble #244 “Going Native”

The sign said, “Humans only!” It was spelled correctly for a change. Out in the sticks it’s even money. I walked in, sat down at a booth. I don’t like sitting at the bar, especially with my back to the door: not on a planet like this.

The waitress was right out of central casting: cute, but weathered and insincere. “What’ll ya have, sweetie?”

“A number three. And black coffee, if you have some fresh.”

“I’ll start a new pot.” She smiled, winked, and went on her way. I always fool them. They never know; they just think they do.

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