Peaks and Valleys

Three

I rub my eyes tiredly as I go to take the order of the first customer that walks into the Waffle House at six in the morning. I managed to get an hour and a half of sleep last night, and a headache is already in the works.

    The customer is a young guy with short, dark hair, and I can tell that he's only a couple of years older than me. He has a five o'clock shadow and his eyes are slightly bloodshot, which makes me assume that he didn't have much luck sleeping, either. My theory is further confirmed when he pulls out a small laptop and begins typing away at rapid-fire speed, looking over at a few sheets of notebook paper for guidance. As I approach him, he pushes the computer away sheepishly and smiles at me. I smile back.

    "Hi, my name's Cassidy and I'll be your waitress today. What can I start you off with to drink?" I ask, pulling out my notepad and pen.

    "Coffee, please," the man says, trying to look me in the eye. His gaze shifts nervously, and I can tell that he's uncomfortable.

    "Coming right up," I say, then head towards the coffeemaker. Thankfully, Joe has already turned it on and brewed a pot, so all I have to do is fill it. The hot liquid runs out of the pot and into the mug, and I manage to put it back in place before my hands get burned. Slowly, I pick up the mug by the handle and walk over to the man, tensing a little when the coffee threatens to spill over. Thankfully, I make it to the table and set it down.

    "Do you still need a few minutes, or are you ready to order?"

    He smiles and begins to recite what he wants, fidgeting a little and backtracking nervously. In the end, I have two pancakes with a side of bacon, scrambled eggs, and hash browns. I repeat this to make sure it's correct. When he nods and thanks me, I go to give the order to Joe.

    I always feel guilty about him having to do all of the work this early, but we would lose a lot of business if I helped him cook. Plus, Felicia should be here in about half an hour, so I think he'll be okay.

    To kill time, I pace around the tables, avoiding the man so he can work in peace. I know how frustrating it is to be interrupted while having a good writing flow.

    After a few minutes, he stops and sits back, sighing a little. I think he's lost it. "Dang it," he whispers.

    "Did you lose  the flow?" I ask, beginning to walk over. He looks up at me, seeming surprised that I've acknowledged him.

    "Yeah," he says, nodding a little sadly.

    "I'm sorry. I hate it when that happens." I'm next to his table now. "If---If you don't mind my asking, what are you working on?"

    "I'm working on a novel. It's a story about how the wind swept a leaf off of a tree and how that leaf fell for the wind. It's about how a guy fell for a girl who never stopped running, and it's about how the two aren't so different after all." He smiles, but I can see the despair underneath it.

    "That sounds amazing," I say, becoming a little more enthused. Anything to do with stories has me sold, especially if the story sounds like a really interesting and beautiful one. Just by that small description, I can tell that it'd definitely be something that would hold my interest. "How did you come up with that?"

    He shrugs. "I wrote some letters to a friend, and it kind of developed from there."

    "Aw, that's really sweet. Do you have a name for the main character?"

    "Lana Evers."

    My smile widens. "That's a beautiful name."

    His smile widens, too, and his gaze shifts past my eyes slightly, as if he's imagining something or someone. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."