N/A
an excerpt

"Hey, stranger - you always this quiet?" She asked, abruptly, looking at Richard from behind the counter.

"No. I'm enjoying the food."

"I was going to say - you don't look like you've had a good meal in a while. Been out running the roads?"

He had lost weight, the last couple of months on the road, but he didn't assume it had made that much of a difference to his appearance.

"Yeah. I have. And the food quality in some places isn't great."

Heather tightened the elastic around her ponytail. "Eh. I work a shift here. Don't have anything to do with the food," she said, shrugging. "Just hang out here and talk to the customers and serve it up. Speaking of that... I think we're soon to close..."

He glanced at his battered old watch. "Ten o'clock?" He offered.

"Yep," Heather turned her back to him. "Hey, Cassie!" She called back. A woman, younger than Heather leaned around the wall between diner and kitchen. "Soon be time to close it up. Nobody else is coming in. I can clean up if you want to go..." Heather's eyes darted to the window and Richard followed her gaze, spotting a young man hovering around outside, hands shoved in his pockets.

The other woman - Cassie - wiped her hands on her apron and came out, spotting the man that Heather had seen. A smile lit her face and she untied the apron and hung it up. "Are you sure, Heather...?"

"Can't be that dirty, now, can it? Go on, before I change my mind."

"Thanks a million." Cassie's face split into a grin, as she went out the door, wrapping her arms around the man.

"She smells like fish and grease and God-knows-what-else," Heather commented, "but he still comes every night and lets her hug him. Nice guy."

"They're in love," Richard leaned back on the stool, slightly.

"Of course they are. Why else would he come every night of the week and stand in the cold?" Heather turned off the coffee maker and reached for a broom. "I've soon gotta lock it up," she said, pausing to stretch her back, "but you can stay for a few more minutes."

He shrugged, as she counted the till, locked the profit away, swept the floors and cleaned up a few dishes. She wiped down the tables and counter and he helped her stack the chairs.

"You're a doll," she said, beaming. "But you didn't need to do that."

Richard shrugged, again. "Nobody sat idle where I grew up."

She nodded, knowingly. "Gotta turn out the lights and lock it up. C'mon." She ushered him out and flicked the lights off. Then turned a battered sign on the door to "closed" and fished a key from her pocket, locking the door.

"You take care, stranger," she called, as they went in separate directions - her heading down the street towards a line of parked cars, he headed back up the way he'd come.

"You too."

"Sure thing."