“Harold’s Fish n’ Chips”

This Take Ten to Write story was submitted by E. L. Stew. Happy reading!

I’d recognize that neon-orange palm tree anywhere. I was back home. Maine. It felt like a lifetime since I’d walked into this diner. I used to come here all the time as a kid. Harold’s Fish n’ Chips.

I never understood why it was “Harold’s Fish n’ Chips” when they didn’t even serve fish n’ chips. The closest thing was an anchovy burger, which was surprisingly delicious, despite how it sounds.

There were only ever five or six people who came to the diner, and my mom and I, were two of them. We went out of ritual. My mom had got her first job at Harold’s and she believed in that kind of good juju stuff.

I mean, even I had to admit, when I heard her story, it had to be good juju. She ran away from her parent’s summer home in The Hamptons when she was 15. She was two months pregnant and only had the clothes on her back with her. Well, that and 78 bucks. She spent 75 dollars getting the bus from The Hamptons to Old Orchard Beach. She didn’t have a plan but she went anyways.

And she found Harold’s.