In The Diner

Rayne has a routine, a plan.

He lives life according to this routine. A few times a week, his routine allows him a few hours to hide away in his diner.

Everything is always the same in this diner, even the variances are consistent.

That is, until the gray-haired manager hires a new waiter who moves about like a tornado. This boy does not know Rayne's "usual" or his proclivity to be left alone so he can watch and study the people living around him.

This new waiter disrupts his routine in all the worst ways and Rayne can't help but hate him.
He doesn't seem to care, however, continuing to disrupt Rayne and see Rayne and pop Rayne's bubble of safety, and ask Rayne questions that he doesn't want to answer.

It was all quite aggravating really.

••••••

He looked vaguely familiar, like an ancient statute carved from marble or a delicately crafted oil painting you can see only in the galleries in Europe.

He was all but perfect, just one minor flaw over his eyebrow- a scar where hair refused to grow, leaving a pale gash to interrupt his dark eyebrow.

I noticed, between all my studying of this strange man's face, that his lips were moving.

I had no desire to hear what he was saying. I was content to just watch.
The ways his lips parted and pressed together, his porcelain teeth teasing an appearance behind them.

I watched him speak, not hearing a word, until he stopped, his lips curving up and open on one end in an aggravating smirk.

I don't know why it aggravated me, but it did. I furrowed my brows and removed an earbud, moving my eyes back up to his.

His eyes seemed to aggravate me too.

They looked all too teasing, all too amused.

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