K. Jones | Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee

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You like routine and consistency. Working the morning shift at Granny's has allowed you to realize that. You wake up in your small apartment before the sun rises every morning and drink a cup of coffee on your windowsill before bundling up for your short walk to the diner. You always open the diner. Ashley, the other waitress that works the morning shift with you, always comes in around ten minutes after you open and promises she'll open the next day; she has never lived up to that promise in the months that you've worked with her, but you're not going to complain about it. You serve the same customers every morning and listen to their stories, often the same stories you've listened to before. It may seem mundane and repetitive to anyone else, but, to you, it's an enjoyable start to your day.

The biggest change in your routine occurred when Killian Jones walked into the diner for the first time, but even he has become a consistent part of your everyday life.

Maybe that's why you feel so distraught this morning.

The bell above the diner's door rings, signaling that a new customer has entered the establishment. Your attention immediately gets drawn to the sound, pulling you from your thoughts. A wave of disappointment washes over you once again as you watch yet another regular walk into the diner and greet the other patrons. And the disappointment only deepens when you find no tan pickup parked outside.

You sigh before returning your attention to the table in front of you, covered in dirty dishes. You slip the tip they left for you in the pocket of your apron before gathering the dishes and bringing them to the back of the diner. On your way back to the front counter, you pick up a new rag and begin to wipe down the surface. Without thinking, you check your watch again.

"Alright, what's going on with you?"

You close your eyes and try to get yourself back in check. He cannot be the reason that you feel so frazzled this morning, that doesn't make sense. He's just like any other customer you serve at the diner.

Except he's not. You know that. There's something special about him.

"What are you talking about?"

You move to stand in front of Emma from behind the counter, leaning your elbows on the surface. You were hoping that no one would notice your strange behavior; however, David had decided to go into the station early which gave Emma the morning off. This now allowed her to sit at the diner and watch you get in your own way.

"You seem distracted this morning."

"Guess I just feel thrown off is all."

You shrug nonchalantly and turn around to make some more coffee.

"He got called into the night shift today, ya know?"

You stop in your tracks. Your eyes squeeze shut as you take a deep breath. She read you like a book. Not that it was hard.

"He called David this morning to reschedule their plans. You didn't scare him off."

Emma's tone is playful, she means nothing from the jab. But, nevertheless, you turn around to face her with a furrowed brow.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You cross your arms over your chest as Emma raises a brow at your words.

"Really?"

"Really."

You turn back around and actually start to make another pot of coffee. It is quiet for a couple of seconds, but, before you can even hope that Emma dropped the subject, she speaks up again.

"You two just seem to be getting close."

You sigh and turn to face her again, leaning against the back counter.