An Old Man Was Eating at a Bus Stop When Three Rough-Looking Bikers Walked In
Henry sat alone at a corner table in the bus stop diner, enjoying his modest meal of pie and milk. The morning sun filtered through the grimy windows, casting a golden hue over the worn-out furniture. His gnarled hands trembled slightly as he lifted the fork to his mouth, savoring the sweet comfort of the pie. The diner was a refuge for him, a place where he could enjoy a moment of peace.
The tranquility was abruptly shattered when three rough-looking bikers stomped into the diner. The air seemed to thicken with their presence. Their leather jackets were adorned with patches and symbols, their boots heavy and loud on the linoleum floor. Their names were Randy, Spike, and Tank, and they moved with the swagger of men who had never been challenged.
As they passed Henry’s table, Randy, the first biker, took a long drag on his cigarette before pressing the smoldering end into Henry’s pie. He sneered, his eyes daring Henry to react. Henry looked down at the ruined dessert, his face a mask of calm and resignation.
Spike, the second biker, picked up Henry’s milk with a mocking grin. He spat into the glass before setting it back down, chuckling at his own audacity. Tank, the largest and most intimidating of the three, didn’t bother with…….Read Full Story Here…………………
