It was all done in the sense of preserving the American spirit, a different political transition.  Even as those who'd taken oaths of office, but lost the votes, and who were experiencing "the office" changing all around them, heard us young people out.  Many still smelled of D.C. as they returned to hometowns and gathering places of non-office holding Americans.

  People overall were fighting that feeling of devastation to spirit.  An older young man with ice patches on his wool city long coat looked around the diner from somewhere very far in himself.  His face had grown older looking as if he were an oil lantern at a train depot where many changes had taken place in the decades' milestones.  "New trains, same tracks," his mouth relayed observations.  Some people just hugged him as he stood almost like a wax figure, still representing.

  He got a thumb's up from another wool coat.  "Good thing you went up." The other man's eyes looked out the parking lot.  There were about seven moving trucks.  "What are those?" A staying-on assistant asked him.  "Work." Was the short answer but as breakfast unfolded into brunch and lunch and other moving-on group and organization people called in touching base, the enormity of what was being taken care of (short of records) became clearer.  As did exhaustion.

  The afternoon brought well-wishers, and no shortage of advice like Get rest.  And assurances of We get you now.

  People were almost routinely breaking down into those last moments of letting go because it's okay now.

  Like a still-standing pinwheel when the sun comes after a hurricane WNC put even the smallest seeds of hope onto pieces of shared sponge.  Writers flitted from person to person jotting down important and maybe relevant information to nursing story line.  The smells of toast and pasta mixed into the steams of breath and engines that will work again.

  Experts held sway in the guts of churning transition.  Looking at maps, directories, mission statements, and uncrumpling "speeches" they made a point of not winking and/or sending doubt in messaging.  Periodically, someone would approach that booth and swap sheets of paper.

  "Interested?" The overlap topics touched medical community in particular since the concepts of "spectrum" and "palette" had turned from buzz concepts into keynotes.  A newspaper editor was loud but not rude in commenting on our progression of ideas.  His eyes welled with tears though at the word--coalitions.

  "What's his problem?" A gruff man wagged his head at him.

  A person walked over.  "Okay?" 

  He summoned to people willing to be pointed at.

  "What is it?"

  "I'd prefer that no one use words that are confusing to working people."

  "What word is troubling you?"

  "Coalitions sort of hintimates communism somehow."

  "Okay."

  A soft-talking conversation at another booth.  Someone got up and stretched a cyclist's back and walked around accumulating sticky notes on his arms.  He said out loud things.  Chief among concerns in a transition of power is not to be perceived as a challenger, especially as citizens.

  It was an in-between shifts time and several people gathered their things and made for the exit.  No one opinionated in phrases like lousy tipper or have a nice day.  A foodserver remarked I've seldom seen a more quiet and respectful crowd.

  A potential national censor-person and an airport worker approached the newspaper editor.  "Got your note about the word coalition.  We'll do some legal-reading and be in touch.  Okay?"

  "Thank you," he said as he kept reading in the piling stack of newsprint being donated to his table.

  There were people who sat in place at the diner all day reminding such essentially critical stuff like, it is not the military person's fault that an administration was/is a political party.  Some had come from all over the world where they'd been posted to observe and learn.  Religious people, too, drifted in and out, extending vigils and noting observances.

  All over our nation a flurry of calls, faxes, and telegrams were questioning and confirming resumè data points.  And people were being informed to prepare prospectus.  Academia was a mix of hesitant to register and pool of equally-weighted talent.  Many were relieved in preparing for interviews to be asked to think of a few things that make you unique.

  Tradespeople sighed.  "Bridge-workers" helping people "frame" themselves tweaked the unique feature into interview questions that allowed for personal story to ground technical skills in real life.  And all the while road crews came in for meals and warming breaks.  Sparsed foremen went through proper channels to talk about stress points and aftermaths.  One smiled at me resting reading eyes.  "Did you know that Explosives has its own vocabulary?" I glanced at my writing mentor to see if I could respond.  A nod.  "All over the world?" He looked at his.  A headshake no.

  When information travels through the universe it never "dies", sometimes "rests", and always has "hidden potential".  That is part of why censure is absolutely necessary in times when "confidential" is inevitably compromised by change and transition.

  The kitchen needed two people to strain a cooking pot of spahetti.  Getting ready for dinner.