The bell over the diner door dings when we step inside, and the sound feels ridiculous after what we’ve done.
Brooke keeps her sunglasses on anyway. I keep my cap low. We look like we walked out of Hell. Smoke still lives in our clothes. There is ash in the seams of her hairline. I have a smear at my jaw I missed when I wiped my face.
The hostess barely looks up.
“Two?” she asks.
I nod once.
We slide into a booth near the window. The diner is warm in that familiar way, heat turned too high and the smell of old coffee and pancakes hanging in the air. The place reminds me of Lorraine’s Diner, the same worn booths and steady vibe of a place that never really closes.
Brooke wraps her hands around the menu even though she already knows what she wants.
I pull my phone out and check it.
“Beau said the pilot will be there in an hour. We eat. We don’t need to rush.”
Brooke lets out a breath that almost counts as relief. “Cool. Maybe we can sightsee.”
I lift my eyes, and see she is trying to be funny.
“We’re technically dead. We don't want anybody to recognize us.”
Brooke snorts and nods. “Right.”
The waitress appears with two waters and that tired late night voice. “What can I get you?”
I don’t even open the menu. “Coffee. Black. Eggs, fries, bacon.”
Brooke smiles.
“Turkey sausage,” she says. “Pancakes. Extra syrup.”
The waitress scribbles and walks off.
Brooke looks at me. “Where are we gonna go after this?”
I lean back and scan the room without making it obvious. My posture says relaxed. Even though my eyes say I will kill anyone who looks at her wrong.
“It’s up to you.”
Brooke swallows. “I guess, figure out what peace looks like for people like us.”
I smile. “I like the way you think.”
The food arrives fast. The coffee hits the table with a soft clink, then the plates. Eggs glistening. Fries piled high. Bacon crisp. Brooke’s pancakes are golden brown and fluffy, syrup already threatening to run.
She cuts into them anyway. The first bite makes her shoulders drop a fraction. The rush of sugar and heat hits her.
We eat without speaking. It is quiet between us in a way that doesn’t feel empty. It feels like we’re learning how to be normal.
Brooke glances up and catches me watching her.
“You’re staring.”
I don’t look away. “I like what I see.”
She laughs under her breath. “Yeah? With blood and ash all over my face?”
