The Crossword Club at the Diner

Every Sunday morning, a group of retirees gathers at the diner on Main Street to do the Sunday crossword together. They take up the big round table by the window. There are usually eight or nine of them.

I sat at the counter one morning and overheard them arguing about "a seven-letter word for joyful." I said, "Jubilant?" They all turned around and stared at me. Then one of them said, "Pull up a chair."

I've been part of the crossword club for two years now. I'm the youngest member by thirty years. They call me "the kid." There's a retired judge, a former nun, a man who used to be a professional bowler and a woman who wrote crossword puzzles for a newspaper in the 1970s and is very smug about it.

We usually finish by noon. Then we order pie, and the judge always insists on paying.