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“Don’t you think it’s weird that more foods aren’t waffle-shaped?”
Caelus paused mid-chew. “What, round or square?”
“No, like. Waffled.” March 7th made a gesture that was probably supposed to enlighten, but did nothing of the sort. “The pattern.”
“Waffle fries,” said Dan Heng.
“Those don’t count.” March 7th waved her syrupy fork to punctuate this declaration. Dan Heng silently slid about six inches further down the bench. “If you put syrup on a waffle fry, it would just go right through the holes. That’s not really what being waffled is about.”
“They are called waffle fries, though,” reasoned Caelus.
“Why are you putting syrup on your fries?” asked Dan Heng.
“Waffled,” insisted March 7th. “Just imagine how much stuff you could put on a sandwich if the bun had waffle holes in it.”
Caelus swallowed the last of his sausage. “You could put a lot more butter on pancakes if they were waffled.”
Dan Heng moved back to his previous position on the bench. “I’m pretty sure waffles and pancakes are basically the same thing.”
“Dan Heng!” March 7th said his name like he’d just kicked Peppy in front of her. “You take that back right now.”
“They’re the same ingredients,” he insisted. “One of them is just crispier and sometimes square.”
“You could make square pancakes, I bet,” said Caelus.
“Yeah, but you shouldn’t.” March 7th sawed at her now-soggy waffle. “Pancakes should be round, or in cute round shapes, like little animals. Anyway,” she shoveled roughly a quarter of a waffle into her mouth, “i’s no’ ‘ike y’can’t—”
“March, we can’t understand you.”
March 7th swallowed, wincing as it caught in her throat. “Ugh.” Dan Heng silently slid her water closer. “Thanks. Anyway, I was saying that it’s not like you can’t make waffles into cute shapes, too, but they need to be waffled no matter what.”
Caelus nodded. “Also, I was thinking — has anyone ever tried waffle fries with syrup?”
“I’m sure someone has,” said Dan Heng. “Not me, though.”
“I would,” said March 7th.
“I would, too,” said Caelus.
Dan Heng nudged his plate over. “I’ve got a few fries left. March has syrup.”
“Those are steak fries.” Finished with her waffle, March 7th dropped the fork into the pool of remaining syrup. “They won’t work.”
“It’s a fry. They all taste the same.”
“They do not,” March 7th and Caelus said at the same time. “Take it back, Dan Heng,” Caelus added.
Dan Heng looked unrepentant.
March 7th leaned over to Caelus. He met her halfway. “He’s hopeless,” she whispered. “I can’t even get him to buy a case for his phone.”
“Whispering won’t do anything if you’re both hanging off my shoulders because I’m sitting between you. And what do phone cases have to do with fries, anyway?”
“Lots,” said March 7th. “Remember that conversation we had about taste?”
“Which one.”
“Any of them.”
“Dan Heng’s fries are cold, too,” Caelus said, halfway through one of said fries. “They probably wouldn’t be great for this experiment.” He took another fry.
March 7th sighed. “My syrup is cold, too.” She brightened. “We’ll just have to come back and try another day!”
“Suits me,” said Caelus. “I like this place.” He reached for the last fry, only for Dan Heng to beat him to it. “Hey!”
“They’re my fries.” Quickly, Dan Heng reached over and dunked his cold steak fry in March 7th’s cold waffle syrup.
March 7th and Caelus watched this with all the fascinated horror of bystanders to a road accident. “How is it?” March 7th asked, after he’d been chewing for several seconds.
Dan Heng swallowed, expression unchanging. He shrugged. “Tastes like a cold fry and cold syrup,” he said.
“Gee, thanks.”
Caelus took Dan Heng’s now-empty plate and stacked it neatly on top of his own. “I think we’re done here.”
“Yeah, definitely.” March 7th slid off the bench. “No more waffling.”
Dan Heng snorted. “How long have you been sitting on that one?”
“Like five minutes. Come on; we can stop and get some more film for my camera if we hurry.”
“I wondered why you didn’t take any pictures of the diner.” Caelus jogged to catch up. “It seemed like the sort of place you’d love.”
“I’ll do it next time! We can see if they have any more waffled food on the secret menu.”
“That’s not what a secret menu is.”
“Don’t kill my vibe, Dan Heng.”
They left together, the diner door swinging after them.