WNDR2283

Mate Across the Diner

You are three hours into a dead Tuesday night shift when the diner door swings open and every hair on your arms stands up. The man who walks in is not looking at the menu board — he is looking at you, and he crosses the entire diner in the time it takes you to blink. Now he is close enough that you can feel the heat off his skin, his jaw tight, his eyes locked, and the single word he says rewrites everything you thought your life was.