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Sterile halogen lights offer little warmth in a run down diner like this. The waitress brings coffee with the same dour expression you'd expect to see from someone who has just noticed they've stepped in gum. Trash. She isn't paid to smile, and the tip you'll later place by the napkins is embarrassing enough to warrant a look like that so perhaps it's only fitting.
In any case, your mind is elsewhere. Rain pecks at the window as you rest you arm on fake leather, sip your coffee, and gaze out at a blurred night-scape of gasoline puddle rainbows and rear view reminders. Back when you were together, she'd never agree to come to a dump like this. Of course, this mini act of newfound freedom does nothing to improve your spirits, but it was all you could think to do to get out of the house. Is it really this dull being alone? Is this what your mom was always on about when she was telling you to get a haircut and move out before it's too late?
Is it too late? It's late in the sense that the the only lights coming from the road are either truckers, highway patrol, or drunk kids packed into their parents car. But that's not the late you mean...
You miss her, and a part of you knows that rainy nights like this are always going to make you feel this way.
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