Author Games: Empty Night

Finals: Ozias Alva

A day: the single rotation of the earth on its axis while it orbits the sun. The most basic measurement of time. We see the day used as an important measurement across multiple religions. It's a spiritual rebirth, an opening in the veil between what is and what is yet to be. But what happens when the day ends?

I used to believe that's where demons were created. From the evil and the corruptive energy that was forged in the friction between dying stars. In a way, I had a good point. But I no longer admired the space in between lights with the same enthusiasm as before. I'd started to learn that a day, the beginning and the end, were so much more. And somehow, in spite of all of this, I was back where I started: in some hole in the wall diner that promised great food and low prices, at least until the health inspector showed up and condemned the place.

The napkins here were red. Thick, vibrant cloth that easily hid the old power-washed stained from greasy hands that had come and gone. The silverware had been tucked inside, now scattered across various plates from attempted french fry thievery and regrettably moist vegetables that tasted more like lost time than anything else. My foot bounced up and down against the carpeted floor while I fiddled idly with the paper wrapper from my straw. I was trying to convince myself I didn't need to think about how hard it must be to clean a carpet in a restaurant, especially when the one at home could beat it in a filth contest no question.

Luckily, only one of my feet was subjected to the torment of feeling what was either carpet fibers or someone else's hair tickling my ankle. The other foot— you know, the non-bouncing one— was wrapped up snug in a highly attractive green cast that stretched over most of my shin. It was safe for now. Depending on the longevity of this restaurant, perhaps safe forever.

A sigh followed the swish of a long grey ponytail as Mom slid back into her seat across from me, pulling on the ends of her sleeves to slip out of her denim jacket. "I'm back, kiddo." Her fingernails drummed against the tabletop, chipped red paint matching the makeup that she wore. I tried not to let my eyes wander to the pale scar receding into her hairline from the front of her forehead. It was still pink and fresh, covered over in makeup to make it look less visible to those who didn't know it was there.

I straightened up, letting the paper drop from between my fingertips. "How was Adam?" The words slipped out before I could really think to stop them, but the smile that crossed Mom's lips was enough to settle my nerves.

"Busy. As usual," she answered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A cup of coffee sat between us, quickly wrapped up in her fingers as she took a sip and grimaced. "Ugh, I let it go cold." Nose wrinkling, I tried to hold back a grin as she shoved it further into the old plates and empty glasses piling in the center. "He's going to meet up with us later." A flutter of excitement rose in my chest at the idea. Adam had promised to watch movies with us later if things at work had been slow. Seeing as he'd been put on part-time until the media stopped hammering them with calls, the chances of him coming by had increased pretty drastically. Mostly out of sheer boredom. And the prospect of making out with my mom in the storage room of the bar.

A black button-up shirt blocked my view of the table as the waiter leaned across it, scooping away plates with one hand as he placed the receipt on the table with the other. His name tag said his name was Marco. The shadow of stubble on his chin and the way his smile made my guts twist up told me he was really, really hot. "Here you go." He straightened up, smoothing out the creases in his shirt as he took a step back. "Can I get you anything else today?"

Any chance I had of making a witty or at least moderately intelligent response flew out the window as soon as he turned his eyes on me. "No, thank you," I heard Mom answer as she handed him back a pen I don't even remember him offering. With a nod, Marco stepped away from the table and went back to work, taking his gorgeous face with him. "He's cute." Mom's eyes were burning holes in me.