Fork's Story

Outside of a Restaurant Downtown:

He fell into the night face first, trying to slow his fall against the harsh alley pavement with his hands. "And take a bath. You reek", shouted the restaurant's owner out to the host, before walking back into the warmth of his establishment. The host laid in the alley in shock for a moment, running through the past few minutes in his head. The waiter had seen him slip the fork into his pocket and didn't return the bill, instead bringing out the owner and one of the larger chefs to remove him. There, laying on his stomach, he saw it. About five feet from his head, was a bent, rusty fork. The moment the host's eyes met the fork, he knew it was perfect. He picked himself up and dusted off his suit. After taking a couple of steps, he knelt picking it up. He turned it over in his. "Look at you", he said, allowing a grin to spread across his face. "Look at you", he repeated several times, the grin growing larger and larger.

The spoon slide around the saucer stopping next to the fork. He could see that the fork had seen plenty of wear. He listened carefully for some time, to make sure that the host really was in his bedroom sleeping. Just an hour ago, he'd burst in through the door and rushed to the table to lay a mug down. Standing there for some time, he murmured enthusiastically about how well his collection was going before his energy was depleted and his eyelids began forcing themselves shut. Hearing nothing but the host's breathing, he whispered to the fork "Are you alright?"