Nickelback is playing at Dilly's Deli at 12:36 on a Thursday. I find a spot at one of the only available checkered tables and pull out my laptop. It acts as a shield, so I don't make awkward eye contact as I sit with my back to the wall.
The employee with a soft-spoken voice tries to announce my bread bowl is ready over the room crowded with voices. She has written my name on the order with an "i" using a heart instead of a dot.
A woman with a collared red dress and black heels sits stiffly in the metal chair across from a man in scrubs and Reebok sneakers. She nods and smiles politely at his animated stories. After 10 minutes, he says, "Thanks for taking the time to speak with me today" and I wonder if he knows the difference between speaking and listening.
A father and son walk in with matching ASU t-shirts and slightly crooked gaits. They both order a large Coke.
The bearded man at the table to my left has pawprint tattoos running up his arm. I wonder if he will go home to those dogs tonight or if they are prints lingering from friend she said goodbye to long ago.
Working men and women rush in and out with brown paper bags of sandwiches to go. On the way out, one man stops to order a root beer float. I hope this addition makes his day a little sweeter.
Four people are staring at their phones in this room, swiping their thumbs across the screens. A man in a black apron sneaks around them to swipe a rag over their tables.
John Denver is playing at 1:05 on a Thursday as a line again begins to form at the counter of Dilly's Deli. I close my laptop. A girl walks by and I call out, "I love your glasses." She turns. We make eye contact and smile.
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