The Way To You - ENGLOT

Chapter 3: Diner on Dusty Roads

Eris's POV:

The neon glow of the "Open" sign beckoned like a beacon in the twilight desert. Eris squinted through the grime of her windshield, her tired legs groaning at the prospect of yet another diner meal. But Carys, practically vibrating with excitement, practically shoved her out of the truck.

"Diner?" Carys asked, her voice tinged with a childlike excitement that made Eris smile. Her eyes, wide and curious, darted across the greasy spoons and faded Coca-Cola posters lining the windows.

"Diner," she confirmed, pushing open the door with a groan of rusty hinges. Inside, the air hummed with the clatter of silverware and the low rumble of conversation.

Eris scanned the room, her gaze settling on a worn red booth in the corner. She slid in, the vinyl cool beneath her calloused hands.

Carys followed, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. The chrome stools, the checkerboard floor, the Elvis portrait grinning down from the wall – it was all a tableau from an antique movie, a world away from the grimy motels and dusty roads they'd been navigating.

"Woah," she breathed, her voice hushed with wonder. "This place is... amazing."

Eris chuckled, watching the way her fingers traced the worn leatherette of the booth. "It's just a diner, Carys."

"Not just any diner," she corrected, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is a diner straight out of a 50s film. Look, a jukebox!"

She bounced out of the booth, her excitement infectious. Eris watched her move with a smile she couldn't explain, the diner light catching the gold glint of a pendant peeking out from under her shirt.

"Cute," she murmured, more to herself than to her.

Carys stopped, her head tilting. "What?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, clearing her throat. "Just...choosing what to eat."

Carys raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Cute, huh? Don't worry I think you're not so bad yourself."

Eris laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Whatever you say, Princess."

She watched as Carys returned to the booth, a shy smile lingering on her face.

"It's... so cool," she whispered, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the tabletop. "I've never been to a place like this."

Eris chuckled, the sound rough like the desert wind. "You haven't missed much. Just grease and coffee."

But Carys ignored her gruffness. Her eyes lit up as the waitress approached, a woman with a nametag that read "Dottie" in loopy script, a menu held in her weathered hand.

"Coffee for me, no sugar," Eris said, her usual order slipping out before she could stop it. "And a chicken fried steak."

Carys, however, was still engrossed in the menu, her brow furrowed in concentration. "What's a... patty melt?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

Dottie chuckled, her warm eyes crinkling at the corners. "Honey, that's a burger, but with melted cheese and grilled onions. One of our bestsellers."

Carys' face lit up, her eyes sparkling. "bestseller? I'll have that, then!"

"You got it, I'll be back with your orders shortly."

As they waited for their food, Caris peppered her with questions. "Why do they call it a truck stop? Where are all the trucks?"

Eris patiently explained the rituals of the road, the weary drivers who fueled their engines and spirits in these greasy havens. She told her stories of grizzled veterans and wide-eyed rookies, of stolen moments of laughter and shared loneliness. Carys listened, her fascination growing with each word.