Daddy Fucked My Ass At The Diner

2 AM at the city diner. The only place open. Neon buzzing. Jukebox playing Sinatra. My father Arthur slid into the booth across from me and ordered coffee and pie like we did this every night. But we didnt. And the way he looked at me said this was different. Under the table, his hand found my knee. The waitress refilled our cups. I didnt hear a word of the conversation. I only felt his hand moving higher.