𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 • 𝐌𝐉

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Prologue

〄

Julianna McAulay stole a glance at the closest clock while wiping down a table. It was 6:48 PM—just 12 minutes left until closing. The diner was quiet, save for the occasional clink of a glass or the hum of distant chatter. With a rag in hand, she lazily wiped the laminate surface, eyes half-dreaming about the future while her hands worked on autopilot. "Twelve more minutes," she thought. She'd done this same routine day in and day out, enough to know how time stretched and shrank depending on her mood. And right now, time felt slow, like the syrup she poured over pancakes in the mornings.

Julie, a 23-year-old with an unmistakable southern drawl, had always been a dreamer, a girl out of time in Ducktown, Tennessee. The town was small, the kind of place where everyone knew your name and your business. It had its charm, sure, but ever since her parents passed, she couldn't shake the feeling of being stuck. She'd often imagine what life could be like beyond the rolling hills, past the fields, and into the city lights. Nashville maybe, or somewhere farther. Somewhere with noise, excitement, life.

She wiped down another table absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting to the day her life had changed forever. She was only thirteen when her parents had died, murdered by a mysterious family visitor whose face still haunted her dreams. Jack, her older brother by five years, had found them—cold, lifeless, and forever gone. He'd grabbed Julie and ran that night. They were orphans after that, but their grandmother stepped in, taking them under her wing and offering a safe harbor in the storm.

It was hard—losing your parents at such a young age.

But Jack had been her rock, her protector. After all, he had always been the strong one, the one who made sure the weight of the world didn't crush them both. He became sheriff, a natural leader in their small town. And Julie? Well, she ended up as a waitress in a little diner near the police station, keeping close to her brother in more ways than one.

As she scrubbed a stubborn coffee stain off the counter, she thought about Jack on his way to pick her up. It was their Thursday ritual, something he'd never miss. He'd pull up in his squad car, flash that goofy grin of his, and they'd argue over where to eat dinner. It had become a routine, the kind that made Julie feel safe, even if she sometimes craved something more.

Her thoughts were interrupted by laughter from the back of the restaurant. Julie spotted her coworkers, Sarah J. and Sarah M., deep in conversation, their laughter bubbling up like a secret she wasn't a part of. They hadn't spoken much to her all shift, too caught up in their own world. Julie felt a small pang of loneliness as she wiped her hands on her apron and gave them a wave. They barely noticed at first, but eventually, Sarah J. shot her a quick wave back before grabbing her coat, and the two of them hurried out the back door, leaving Julie standing there, feeling more alone than before.

Julie sighed as she moved the salt and pepper shakers again, trying to find the perfect alignment. She wasn't sure why she cared so much about their symmetry, but it kept her hands busy and her mind distracted. "Guess it's just me now," she muttered, her voice barely audible in the quiet diner. The loneliness gnawed at her. The silence reminded her of everything she tried to ignore—her parents, the suffocating routine of Ducktown, and the yawning emptiness Jack left every time he sped off in his police car.

Chris, her boss and friend, peeked out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "You talkin' to yourself again, Jules?" His easy grin softened the sting of his words.