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Descriptive Essay On A Restaurant

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Smell As I walked in the door, aromas flooded my nostrils; my day as a waitress had begun. Immediately, bacon sizzling on the grill grabbed my attention then resumed filling the kitchen and the street air outside with a salted, hickory twist. Taking a deep breath and opening the door to the waitress station revealed a pot of freshly brewed coffee, its creamy perfume— tangled with the bacon from the kitchen— had encased the small town diner. My first customer was an older man. The stench of his breath was appalling, consisting of only the toxic odor of alcohol which remained from a night of heavy drinking. A quick ticket, a cup of plain coffee, and a couple sticks of fresh mint gum --on the house-- set him on a more vibrant route; this, of course, gave him a more tolerable fragrance for the day. Glancing out the window, I noticed thick, black smoke billowing from the Whitewater Valley train: its passengers exited, covering their ears to shield from the blare of the horn. As the door opened, the dense, charcoal fog dragged in along with the new customers. Though, the kitchen buzzed with the creation of orders before long. As my day ended, I walked out of the diner to my junky old car. The interior reeked of fruity strawberry and black ice air fresheners, which unsuccessfully attempted to mask the metallic stain of rust and old gasoline. The A/C was broken, but the crisp, fresh breeze cooled me as the sun began to wave goodnight to the woodland surrounding the road.

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