When Mel Gromley ordered two eggs ‘over easy’, he emphasized that their edges should be well-fried. Without crisp edges, what was the point? But after the waitress brought his plate, Mel shoved it dismissively against his coffee cup.

“Look at that, Ed.”

“What?”

Mel pointed with his fork. “My eggs.”

Next to Mel at the linoleum counter, Ed set his spoon down and studied the plate. Two eggs, sunny side up. Rubbery. Not a frazzled edge between them.

“You heard me say ‘over easy’ and frazzled, right?”

“Yeah…” Ed looked for a napkin to blot Mel’s coffee.

“So, look at them.”

Although he’d missed his last optometrist’s appointment, Ed could see well enough. Anyone in the diner that Thursday could see Mel’s eggs, even in the weak light.

“Okay… But dial it down a notch, Mel, and pass me a napkin.”

“What’d you mean?”

“A napkin’s a piece of paper that I need to…”

“I know what a napkin is, but look at my plate.”

Now it was Ed who frowned. “I understand, you’re upset. You don’t have frazzled edges, right?”

“Damn right.”

“But there’s something I don’t understand, Mel.”

“What?”

“Well, if it were me, I’d be more ticked about the flies on your yokes there.”