Exactly true

The diner served dry hamburgers. The false fifties memorabilia (Route 66 signs, wide Chevy grilles, a cornerless jukebox) weren't distraction enough for the two men crammed into the red and white pleather booth, so the dry hamburgers certainly weren't helping. Thomas set his seeded bun down next to his cold crinkle-cut fries.

"I killed a man once."

This wasn't exactly true. To say he killed a man, actively ending his existence on this earth, removing him from the 6 cubic feet (or so) of specific space he occupied in time, was inaccurate.

Thomas referred to a night two years earlier. Walking to a free concert, he passed a man sprawled on the concrete in front of a 7-11. The unnatural angles of his limbs paused Thomas' gait. He cleared his throat, unnecessarily. He said, "Hello." There was no motion from the figure splayed on the stoop. Thomas poked him gently with the toe of his shoe. Nothing.

And so Thomas stooped, noticing on his decent the scuffed paper cup perched on the curb, it's insides stained with the coffee or tea that it had once held, now encompassing several coins. He placed his fingers on the transient's jugular. Nothing.

The flesh wasn't cold, however. Thomas had thought about CPR, about the cup, about those chapped lips and his own. He abruptly stood, and after depositing 17 cents into the cup, briskly walked away. It was only several hours later, after the concert, after seeing the coroner at the 7-11, after thoughts of phone calls and emergency medical personnel and their wages and society's burdens; only after all the whores in his mind had peddled their wares did Thomas realize he might have held a role in this timely passing.

Russell looked at Thomas across the faded red diner table. He found himself trapped in a small corner booth with a person who might be capable of terrible things. "What was it like?"

"I get a boner thinking about it." Thomas tried to act nonchalant, picking up a soggy potato wedge and wondering why he had divulged that truly intimate bit of information. He felt some strange camaraderie for this person he had met online several weeks ago. It was true; his arousal at the memory of that night and it's obvious violence. Even though his participation was limited to the possibilities of his inaction (his neglect, indirectly causing death which might have been delayed), he felt very pivotal.

Russell nervously pushed catsup around on his plate with a fry. "I've, uh... I've never killed thing."

Which also was not exactly true. From a lawyer's standpoint maybe, it was asphyxiation and traumatic spinal injuries and internal ruptures that had caused the deaths of 12 men he had met at various diners over the past six months. Russell watched the waitress lean on her hip after forcefully smacking the chrome ringer. She chewed gum, so Russell watched her chew it. He did not become aroused thinking of his violent trysts. He became aroused during them.

And so the strangers exchanged inexact truths for 45 minutes before mounting the nerve to retire to a hotel room with their perversions. Later that night, one would leave.