[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/SJzyXTD.jpeg[/img] [sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=808080][color=a04535][b]#a04535[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/1d/e5/f2/1de5f2bc94c4a362d49a8d3ed5cc0383.jpg][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [color=737e62][b]#737e62[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/2vHJjir][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]harv's diner[/b][/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center] [indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]The diner smelled like coffee and something cinnamon before Hazel had even gotten her coat off. She paused just inside the door, still holding the handle, taking stock of the space the way she always did in those first quiet minutes before the day truly began. The chairs were still up on most of the tables. The windows were dark in the early morning, the street outside reduced to the occasional blur of headlights passing slowly through. The coffee machine was running (Harv must have come in earlier than usual), and on the counter beside the register sat a small ceramic jack-o-lantern she was pretty certain had not been there yesterday, its painted smile slightly lopsided. [color=a04535][i]Oh, Harv,[/i][/color] she thought, with a small, reluctant smile. She hung her coat on the hook by the back and tied her hair up with an elastic she kept around her wrist, pulling the dark strands into a quick ponytail. It was only when reaching for her apron on its usual peg that Hazel noticed the note. It was sitting on top of something orange. [i]Just for today. Halloween rules. – H[/i] She lifted the note. Underneath it sat an [url=https://i.postimg.cc/QdxB4CT7/Apron.jpg]apron[/url] that was orange, naturally, and printed across the front in large, friendly letters were the words WITCH BETTER HAVE MY COFFEE with a small cartoonish witch cat at the top. Hazel looked at it for a long moment. Then she looked around the empty diner as though checking for witnesses. Then she put it on. [color=a04535]"Halloween rules,"[/color] she said to nobody, donning the cute but somewhat silly thing. [color=a04535]"Sure."[/color] The next thing, and the first thing Hazel always did without thinking, was the coffee. She crossed to the machine to check the water level out of habit and adjusted the filter even though it didn't really need adjusting. The smell of it was already doing its work in the room, and she found that comforting in a way she hadn't expected when she'd first walked in here. Back then, she'd been three days out of Denver with two bags in the back of her car and a crick in her neck from sleeping in the front seat. She'd sat in the back booth with a cup of black coffee she didn't really want just to have something to hold onto. And the smell of fresh coffee in an ordinary diner had felt like the most normal thing she'd encountered in longer than she'd wanted to think about at the time. Like proof that normal mixed with some sense of peace still existed somewhere, even if she wasn't entirely part of it. She wasn't sure she was entirely part of it yet now, either, if she was being honest. But the coffee still helped. From there, it was the counter, which was quickly wiped down. The salt and pepper shakers came next before the sugar caddies, restocked from the box Harv usually kept under the register. Then there were the menus, wiped and stacked, though half the regulars didn't need them anymore and probably hadn't for years. Old Carl could recite the entire lunch specials board from memory. Dottie always ordered the same club sandwich, extra pickles, no tomato. But you never knew, you know? Tourists came through more often than the locals liked to admit, and around Halloween, the trickle was sure to become a steady stream, she figured. The chairs came down next one at a time as Hazel continued to work her way around the room methodically, and as she set the last chair down at the table by the window, the one with the best view of Main Street, she straightened up and looked outside. The street was just beginning to consider being awake. Main Street had been blocked off to traffic, which gave the whole thing the quality of a stage being set with the townspeople moving through it with purpose, carrying things, arranging things, and occasionally arguing about where things should go. Hay bales and pumpkins were appearing in clusters along the storefronts, and farther down, she could see tables being unfolded and arranged, with someone directing the effort. An area near the far end of the street had been sectioned off with rope and stakes, empty for now with just the outline of something that would presumably make more sense later. A stage, maybe, or some kind of judging area from the looks of it. Finally, outside the library, a group of volunteers were hauling what appeared to be black fabric and plywood through the front doors, and there, closer than the rest, was Warren Boone. Hard to miss, really, at the best of times and particularly unmissable when he was in the middle of directing two other men in the positioning of a truck bed full of candy bags, pumpkins and who knew what else. Hazel smiled despite herself. Halloween, where she came from, had been a much simpler proposition and consisted of a bowl of candy on the front table with not too much in it for the trick-or-treaters. She'd learned to buy a little extra on the side as well, tucked away in her bag and transferred to the kitchen cupboard when she got home from work. At the end of the night, when the door was done being answered, she'd slip this remainder into a bag and leave it outside on the step for any family that still had little ones out past nine who hadn't gotten enough yet. It had been a small thing. Hardly worth mentioning, but Hazel had looked forward to it every year anyway. She turned away from the window and reached for the coffee pot, refilling her own mug from the batch she'd started twenty minutes ago. [color=a04535][i]Maybe[/i][/color], she thought, [color=a04535][i]I'll give out a little extra this year, too.[/i][/color] There was no one to account for anymore after all. Eventually, the diner filled up gradually, then all at once. The first few customers came in ones and twos, the early regulars who wanted their coffee before the festival chaos properly descended on Main Street. Old Carl shuffled to his usual spot by the window, not even glancing at the menu. Dottie followed three minutes later, complaining about the slight chill in the air. A man in a Carhartt jacket sat at the counter and ordered just toast, nothing else, and ate it like he was late for something. Who knows. It didn’t really matter because Hazel moved through it all on autopilot the way she'd learned to in the weeks since she'd started, refilling drinks without being asked while remembering things like who took sugar and who didn't. Outside the windows, the setup continued. More and more people appeared, carrying ladders and streamers and what looked like a six-foot-tall cardboard skeleton. The energy of it drifted through the glass in a way that made the diner feel slightly more alive than usual. A woman in a witch hat came in and ordered eggs over easy, the hat's brim bumping the doorframe on her way to a booth. Two men in matching flannel sat in the corner and talked about something involving the petting zoo. And by the time an older gentleman at the end of the counter was settling his bill with a handful of crumpled ones, the place had pretty much found its rhythm. It was when Hazel was refilling the corner booth's coffee (third refill for the flannel men, both still on their first cup because they talked a lot more than they drank) that the bell above the door announced one Sutton Lockwood. Hazel had Sutton's order ready before the woman had made it three steps through the door. [color=a04535]"Morning, Sutton,"[/color] she said, sliding the carrier across the counter. The rest of their interaction happened pretty quickly after that, ending with Sutton’s request to charge her double tomorrow. Hazel waved her off before she'd finished the sentence. [color=a04535]"Go,"[/color] she said. [color=a04535]"We'll sort it tomorrow."[/color] The moment the words left her mouth, Hazel was already turning back toward the counter, reaching for the coffee pot out of habit. The bell chimed once behind her as the door swung open — or closed, she wasn't paying attention — and she stood there for a while with the counter rag in her hand, not really wiping anything and in her own head. She tried to imagine what it would be like working for someone like Mayor Holt. He'd been in twice since she'd started, and he'd tipped well both times. More than well, actually. So you know…he was nice enough from what she could tell, especially with organizing all of this Halloween stuff. The permits alone, along with the sheer number of people who apparently needed to be told where to put a hay bale, seemed like one bad headache after another. So, she didn't envy Sutton the logistics of it, however good the view from the mayor's office might be. Unbeknownst to Hazel, Harlan lingered just outside the diner, door still propped with his left leg as he watched Sutton scurry off down the road with enough speed that she might be trying to reverse time itself so she could be on time. But last time he checked, humans couldn’t run eighty-eight miles an hour, especially not in shoes like those. His fingers strummed against the cool metal that framed the glass door, eyes narrowing as his brows furrowed. He couldn’t think of a single person in town who would be up in arms about their star employee oversleeping for once in their life, but he supposed if there was ever someone to be an ass about it…it’d be Samuel Holt. It sat uneasily in Harlan’s chest in the same way undercooked chicken or too much alcohol lingered heavy and precarious in his stomach, where one quick movement could disturb the balance. There was something fearful in the girl’s eyes, like being late was more detrimental to her than just losing her job. He didn’t know how long the Lockwood girl had been working under the Mayor, but it was a while… long enough that he didn’t remember what it was like beforehand. Maybe he was looking for something where there was nothing to be found, or maybe he was overthinking. Both were possible. But the thought still nagged at the back of his mind, if only because he knew the Mayor, and the type of man he truly was… Something to bother Warren about later, if nothing else. Harlan shook his head and went to enter a second time, but caught Corina Anders climbing out of her car after being dropped off by her husband. So instead he waited patiently, holding the door open for her as she climbed the steps and headed inside for her shift. She looked up at him with a warm smile, gently squeezing his upper arm as she drifted past. [color=d6d6d6]"Thank you, Harlan."[/color] He nodded his head toward her once, sparing her a faint, lopsided smile that tugged upwards just on one side. Harlan gave her plenty of space before he stepped in after her, easing the door closed gently behind him. He weaved around an older gentleman paying at the cash register, giving him a firm pat to the shoulder as he passed. Then, at the far end of the counter, tucked away in the corner, forgotten and mostly out of sight, sat a white porcelain coffee mug waiting just for him. His calloused hands pressed against the edge of the counter as he swung his leg around the stool and slowly lowered himself to sit on the cracked leather seat. He tested the temperature of the mug with the back of his fingers after noting the lack of steam curling from the dark liquid and sighed. Harlan waited patiently until Hazel didn’t seem busy, then he waved two fingers toward her to get her attention. [color=737e62]"Hey, sorry…"[/color] He sighed, flashing her a sad attempt at a smile. [color=737e62]"My brother stole my fucking truck and—"[/color] He shook his head, waving off the thought before he finished. [color=737e62]"Can I get a fresh cup, please?"[/color] Hazel had still been thinking about the kinds of pressures of small-town life when the draft from the open door finally stopped. It was Corina's hum of what might have been sarcastic concern that snapped her attention back to the present. [color=d6d6d6]"Harv,"[/color] Corina said, drawing the word out like it explained everything as she pointed at Hazel's apron. And it did, really. It explained all of it. [color=a04535]"Halloween rules,"[/color] Hazel confirmed with a smile. It was probably the closest thing to a joke she'd made in company since arriving in Pine Ridge. As if taking notice of this, Corina blinked once. Then she laughed and shook her head as she tied on her own plain white apron. The other woman seemed neither surprised nor disappointed by any of Harv’s antics, going on to say something about a commotion not far from here on her way past (apparently, there had been some kind of disagreement? Who knows). Either way, when Hazel turned, she found that table four needed refilling, and that the older gentleman at the register was having some difficulty with his card. And even by the time she had a moment, she had somehow acquired three more things that needed doing first. It was somewhere in the middle of all of that that two fingers appeared at the edge of her peripheral vision, raised to get her attention. Hazel was there in a moment to fulfill Harlan’s request, coffee pot in hand. The cold mug got set aside without comment, and a fresh one took its place. Steam rose immediately as she poured, dark and fragrant, filling the space between them. [color=a04535]"Don't apologize,"[/color] she said simply, not looking at him yet. Her attention instead was on the pour, making sure to stop just shy of the rim of the mug. [color=a04535]"The coffee was just early today." [/color] She set the coffee pot down and leaned against the counter across from him, arms crossed loosely, the witch cat on her apron sitting slightly askew. [color=a04535]"Sounds like your brother's having a good time at least."[/color] Harlan rested his left arm against the edge of the counter as he reached out with his other hand for the sugar shaker. He gave a small sprinkle to the steaming black liquid in front of him before sparing a glance over his shoulder and out the diner window where he saw the top of his truck glint in the sunlight. And beside it, stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with the telltale nappy hair that could only belong to Warren. Harlan scoffed and slid the glass sugar container back to where it belonged next to the napkin dispenser. [color=737e62]"Yeah, well…"[/color] He lifted his spoon and slipped it into his coffee, metal softly clinking against porcelain as he stirred. [color=737e62]"Warren could have fun in a blackout. He’s easily amused."[/color] While his words were delivered dry and annoyed, there was still a warm fondness behind the way the corner of his mouth curled into a faint smile that said he could talk shit because Warren was his brother, but no one else could. [color=a04535]"Sounds exhausting, but at least someone is, I guess."[/color] Hazel replied. She straightened up and retrieved the coffee pot, more out of habit than need, and cast another glance out the window at the top of the truck catching the morning light. [color=a04535]"So what's the plan for you today then?"[/color] she asked, nodding toward the window. [color=a04535]"Besides getting your truck stolen for the greater good."[/color] His shoulders lifted in a single shrug. [color=737e62]"I don’t have work… Probably means I’ll get roped into helping someone set up."[/color] While Harlan might have sounded annoyed or indifferent, in reality, he didn’t mind all that much. Even if they didn’t ask for his help, the moment he saw someone struggling with a booth or a heavy crate, he’d be there… Like he always was. [color=a04535]"Mmhm, sounds about right for a day like today,"[/color] Hazel said before casting a glance at the room to take a quick stock of her clientele. The woman in the witch hat was still working through her eggs, her attention fixed on something outside the window. Old Carl had fallen asleep on his stool, chin tucked into his chest, his empty coffee cup still within reach. Dottie was reading a paperback with a cover so creased it might have been older than Hazel if not Dottie herself. Normal. Ordinary. A diner full of people who belonged here in ways she was still trying to find for herself. [color=a04535]"It's going to be one of those strange mornings for the both of us, I think."[/color] [color=737e62]"Whole town’s acting weird,"[/color] he commented plainly as he lifted the spoon from his mug, licked it off, and set it aside on his napkin. [color=737e62]"Halloween’s usually trick-or-treating and a little more traffic to the Apothecary. Nothing like this."[/color] Harlan slipped two fingers through the handle of the mug, lifted it in a general gesture toward the town beyond the diner, before bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip. He shrugged his shoulders, not really understanding why they were going through all the effort. Pine Ridge was better without obnoxious tourists traipsing about the place. Festivals weren’t terrible; he just wasn’t overly fond of the pretense behind them. The Apothecary. Hazel had been in once, just to look around. She'd bought a small amethyst from the woman who ran it, too. Something about a calming effect, which had seemed optimistic at the time and still did, if she was being honest. It was in her apron pocket right now, sitting beside her order pad and a spare pen. She’d almost thrown it out a dozen times, but she hadn’t. Might as well use what she could, right? [color=a04535]"Can't say I don't get it,"[/color] Hazel said, which was as close to agreeing with someone about tourists as she was willing to go, given that she was, technically, one of them. [color=a04535]"But I'll admit I'm a little curious to see what this place has to offer. First Halloween here and all. So… looking forward to it… a little?"[/color] The last word came out higher than she'd intended, teetering into question territory. [color=a04535][i]Just agree with him[/i][/color], her old reflex whispered. [color=a04535][i]Tell him you hate festivals too. Make him comfortable.[/i][/color] But she didn't hate festivals. She couldn’t know that yet. And something about starting all over again in this town made Hazel want to be honest, even if honesty felt clumsy and foreign. Still… [color=a04535]"Sorry…"[/color] she added, almost automatically, forcing herself not to look away and at least being successful there. [color=a04535]"Back where I'm from… Halloween’s a small thing, too. Bowl of candy, porch light on sort of thing. People are actually… excited here? About something. And it’s just, uhh… kinda nice… I guess?"[/color] Harlan had leaned forward, knees spread so they didn’t press uncomfortably into the side of the counter as he rested his forearms against the short overhang. His calloused and work-worn hands wrapped around the mug, thumb brushing the brim of the porcelain. [color=737e62]"Why are you apologizing?"[/color] he asked, looking at her from beneath his prominent brow and the dampness that still clung to his unkempt hair. His gaze drifted back over toward the window, out to his brother directing and laughing, to the unreasonable number of pumpkins, and to the prospect of their small town finding a reason to celebrate. [color=737e62]"I get it. I don’t mind new traditions,"[/color] he offered, looking back up at Hazel for a moment before taking another drink of his coffee. [color=737e62]"I just like Pine Ridge the way it is… small and remote."[/color] Harlan shrugged, rocking his head from right to left with a weak, lopsided smile. [color=737e62]"There’s a difference between the occasional new face passing through and deciding to stay versus actively seeking tourism."[/color] A few seats further down the counter, Carl had snored loud enough to startle himself awake and catch the tail end of their conversation. [color=d6d6d6]"That’s just ‘cause you’re grumpy and antisocial,"[/color] he offered with a wheezy laugh and a toothy smile that made his eyes squint until they were nearly closed. Harlan snorted into the mug as he went to take a drink. [color=737e62]"Who asked you, old man?"[/color] he replied, and though his tone was flat and dry, fondness still sparked behind his eyes and in the subtle creasing of his faint crow’s feet. Carl laughed himself into a small coughing fit, but his grin never shone brighter as he clutched his chest with one hand while wagging a finger at Harlan with the other. [color=d6d6d6]"I don't gotta be asked. I'm a damn volunteer, boy,"[/color] he managed between hacks before he dissolved into another round of coughing that made Dottie look up from her paperback with a long-suffering sigh. Meanwhile, Hazel watched the whole interaction and felt something loosen in her chest that she hadn't realized was tight. It was a strange thing to see, these two men, separated by decades, insulting each other with the ease of people who belonged to each other. Not by blood, maybe, but by time. She’d never had that, at least not in a way that had lasted. She'd had friends once, good ones she thought. People who would remember her birthday and call her at random times just to check in. But somewhere along the way, the calls got less frequent, and the plans kept falling through. And she'd told herself it was just life, just everyone getting busy, just the natural way things thinned out when you got older. It was easier than examining why, specifically, her world had gotten so small without her noticing until it already was. [color=a04535]"Habit,"[/color] she said then, answering Harlan’s earlier question at last. It was insufficient and too honest all at once, and yet it was also the truest answer she was willing to give. True enough that it sat heavy on her tongue, and Hazel had to look away when she said it. With the coffee pot, she moved to refill Carl's mug without being asked, mostly to give herself somewhere to look. [color=a04535]"So, it sounds like you're not a big fan of change,"[/color] she said after a while, which came out slightly more pointed than Hazel had intended. She softened it quickly with a small shrug. [color=a04535]"[i]Not[/i] that there’s anything wrong with that."[/color] Harlan shrugged, his gaze falling to the last remnants of black liquid that rested at the bottom of his mug. His thumb tapped against the porcelain handle. [color=737e62]"Not really,"[/color] he replied simply, without any explanation, before lifting his coffee and drinking what remained. There was a time when he didn’t mind the world changing around him. Hell, there were parts of it he actively sought to change and looked forward to. But once the carpet was pulled out from under him, he found it difficult to look at things the same way. Routine became the foundation for his life. Things were better, [i]easier[/i] when they were predictable, and it was that predictability that kept him in one piece. He couldn’t afford to fall apart a second time. He set the empty mug back down with a deep sigh that was the closest glimpse anyone ever got to what he was actually thinking. His arms crossed loosely, forearms pressed to the edge of the counter as he looked back over toward Carl, then out the diner window. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched his brother laugh and joke with others in passing. An ache that always lived dormant in his chest constricted a little tighter at the sight. Harlan could hardly remember being like that anymore. It was like a fever dream where he could no longer tell what was real or a fantasy. He used to laugh once, smile once. His only saving grace was that eventually people just stopped asking. He didn’t know if it was Warren’s doing. He didn’t care. He knew what was said after he left a room, the whispers they shared about the Boone brothers and how their names were on everyone’s tongue when they were young, and the pity that always followed whenever Harlan was mentioned. It had been eighteen years and it never changed; their sympathy just grew heavier and harder to ignore. But… at least they stopped asking. She watched him set the empty mug down, the sigh that followed seeming more like something that had been sitting in his chest and had found its way out, whether he intended it to or not. His gaze drifted to Carl, then out the window to where Warren was. Something moved across Harlan's face at the sight of his brother. Something that came and went so quickly that Hazel almost missed it. Almost. But she had spent enough years watching faces for information that other people didn't intend to give directly. That was the thing about living with a person whose moods seemed to shift like sudden bad weather: you learned to read the sky before the rain ever started and hoped whatever you did would allow you to survive the eventual downpour. Even so, in the end, Hazel still chose to look away before he could catch her looking. A moment or two passed before Harlan sighed and pushed off the counter. He stood up slowly, leg swinging around the stool as his hand dipped into his back pocket. After fishing out the old, worn leather wallet, he flipped it open and grabbed a twenty-dollar bill. His coffee wasn’t more than five bucks, but he didn’t give it much thought. Perhaps because it was a holiday, or maybe because Hazel didn’t ask, he felt a little more generous than normal. He set the bill on the counter and slid it toward her. [color=737e62]"Happy Halloween. Hope the festival doesn’t disappoint."[/color] Hazel looked at the twenty, then at him. Her instinct was to say that, while it was no 100 dollar bill, it was still too much. But she caught herself. [color=a04535]"Oh, yeah, thanks a lot. And you too." [/color] He lightly rapped his knuckles against the counter twice, offered the best smile he could—which was little more than a tug at the corner of his mouth—then made his way toward the exit. As he passed Carl, he gave the man a soft pat and a squeeze to the shoulder before slipping out the door with the soft chime of the bell. Hazel watched Harlan go through the window, the diner already feeling quieter without him even though it was still half-full. A family of four had settled into a booth near the back, the youngest drawing on a placemat with a red crayon, tongue poking out in concentration, and the woman in the witch hat had finally finished her eggs. Normal sounds. Normal patterns of daily life here. But the absence of Harlan’s stillness was somehow bigger than his presence had been. Sure, his brother took up way more physically and possibly emotionally, but there was something solid and fixed about Harlan Boone that added to his perceived reliability, she supposed. The young woman felt a small, unwelcome pull of envy at that, followed almost immediately by guilt for feeling it. She didn’t know about his life. Didn’t know him, really, beyond the surface details of his calloused hands and the fact that people in the diner seemed to appreciate him. Carl clearly did. But she envied it anyway. The having of a self so established that change felt like something to be defended against rather than fled toward. She had spent the last however many days becoming someone new in a town that didn’t know the difference, and every morning she put on the uniform, the apron, and the name ‘Hazel’ like a costume, waiting to see if it would fit any better than it had the day before. It hasn’t quite happened yet, but perhaps one day it will. The twenty-dollar bill sat on the counter. Hazel picked it up and tucked it into her apron pocket. Then, she wiped down the stretch of counter near Carl without particular purpose and, after a moment, spoke what was really on her mind: [color=a04535]"You seem to know Mr. Boone pretty well."[/color] Carl wheezed into his coffee mug clutched between hands worn by life and years of manual labor. His grin pulled wide, creasing the wrinkles along his face with amusement. [color=d6d6d6]"[i]Mr. Boone?[/i]"[/color] he mused as he set down his half-drunk cup with a soft clink. [color=d6d6d6]"He’s been gone ‘bout twenty years now."[/color] His hand raised, grabbing the bill of his old stained baseball hat, lifting it so he could scratch at his patchy white hair. [color=d6d6d6]"Used to work with Wyatt Boone. Known those boys their whole life."[/color] Dottie looked up from her weathered paperback, readers barely hanging onto the tip of her nose. Her smile was gentle, with warm eyes, and wispy gray hair that framed her face. [color=d6d6d6]"[i]Harlan?[/i] Oh, he might not talk much, but he’s a sweet boy,"[/color] she beamed like a grandmother proud of every young face that wandered into the diner—younger than her anyway. Hazel smiled at that. Harlan was probably pushing forty, but to Dottie, anyone under seventy was apparently still a kid. Then Dottie sighed softly, like a sudden memory had stolen her light. Her head shook softly as she lifted back up her book and flipped the page. The older woman’s gaze lifted a short while after, looking over the top of her glasses toward Hazel. [color=d6d6d6]"It’s just sad,"[/color] she lamented. Hazel glanced over at her. [color=a04535]"What is?"[/color] [color=d6d6d6]"[i]Dottie,[/i]"[/color] Carl drawled, turning slightly on his stool so his left arm rested against the counter as he looked back at the woman. [color=d6d6d6]"You know better than to gossip, y’old busy body."[/color] Dottie scoffed, letting her hand fall to the table with a soft thud, book still held loosely in her fingers. [color=d6d6d6]"It’s not gossip when everyone knows… Like that sciatica of yours that you keep trying to hide."[/color] Carl’s face reddened and contorted before he wagged a finger at her. [color=d6d6d6]"[i]This[/i] is why you’re alone, [i]woman.[/i]"[/color] Without sparing him a glance, Dottie lifted back up her book, entirely unbothered like this was something that happened every other day, and was just part of the town’s charm. [color=d6d6d6]"Should I cancel backgammon then?"[/color] Carl just huffed and spun back around, taking a sip of his coffee because he had no response… and no, he didn’t want to cancel backgammon. Hazel watched the two of them with an expression she was fairly certain gave her away entirely. She pressed her lips together and looked down at the counter, only looking back up when she felt ready to. [color=a04535]"So,"[/color] she said, directing this carefully at Dottie rather than Carl, [color=a04535]"what is it that everyone knows?"[/color] Dottie looked up, resting her book on the table in front of her, then pushed her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. [color=d6d6d6]"Girls have been sweet on those Boone boys since they were in high school. For as long as anyone can remember, Harlan was dating the eldest McCoy girl. [i]Oh, what was her name?[/i]"[/color] She muttered under her breath and snapped her fingers, trying to remember the girl’s name before waving it off dismissively. It wasn’t important. [color=d6d6d6]"That was back when he was a lot more like his brother,"[/color] Dottie added with a sad smile that said if she thought hard enough, she could almost remember it. Hazel blinked, picturing Warren out the window, who was booming and alive in every visible way. Then, she tried to overlay that image onto the man who had just left. It didn't quite fit. At least not anymore. [color=d6d6d6]"Sometime after Harlan graduated,”[/color] Dottie continued, [color=d6d6d6]"their daddy passed and—[i]Oh, I don’t know[/i]—three or so months later that McCoy girl skipped town."[/color] There was a heavy silence that settled between them for a moment. Carl’s attention fell to his coffee, focusing on drinking what remained rather than meeting anyone’s gaze, while Dottie’s frail hands scooped back up her book and folded the cover back to keep her hands busy. [color=d6d6d6]"People speculate, but no one knows why…"[/color] [color=d6d6d6]"Heard he was fixin’ to propose,"[/color] Carl added as he set his mug back down and gently pushed it away. Dottie rolled her eyes and shook her head. [color=d6d6d6]"People don’t just leave in the middle of the night because of marriage proposals, [i]Carl.[/i]"[/color] [color=d6d6d6]"[i]Ah, hell.[/i] I don’t know."[/color] Carl threw up his hands exasperated. [color=d6d6d6]"I’m just saying’ what I heard."[/color] [color=d6d6d6]"At any rate,"[/color] Dottie continued, redirecting the conversation back on track. Because while she might feed the gossip mill, she didn’t put stock in hypotheticals or theories. She only shared what she knew to be fact and left the [i]why’s[/i] and [i]what for’s[/i] for everyone else to ponder or worry over. [color=d6d6d6]"He’s never quite been the same."[/color] [color=d6d6d6]"Well, can you blame him?"[/color] Carl added, leaning to the side as he tried to fish out his wallet with a frustrated grunt. [color=d6d6d6]"Best thing that girl can do now is stay away. I don’t think anyone is keen on seeing her again… [i]her sister included,[/i]"[/color] he concluded as he pulled out a twenty to settle his bill along with a generous tip. Hazel was quiet as she listened along, keeping herself moving and busy with different tasks. She returned the coffee pot to its warmer, the handle clicking into place. She adjusted the napkin dispenser by an eighth of an inch. She straightened the sugar caddies even though they were already straight. Standing still just felt like it would give too much away. She had asked a simple question, and yet the answer had unfolded like a map of a country with a rich history she hadn't known existed. A girl who left in the middle of the night. Just gone. No explanation offered. No goodbye left behind for the people who loved her. A father in the ground—passed, Dottie had said, such a soft word for something that clearly hadn't been. And Harlan Boone spending the better part of his adult years becoming smaller than whoever he'd been before, building his whole life around the kind of predictability that couldn't leave without warning. Hazel thought about the fact that he always sat at the same stool if he could and ordered the same coffee, black with extra sugar that was completely optional. She had labelled all of that as the comfortable predictability of a regular, the kind she'd come to rely on in her weeks at the diner. But she understood it differently now. It wasn't just a habit. It was someone who had learned the very hard way that the things you built your life around could disappear overnight and had decided, consciously or not, that the only defence against that was to need as little as possible that was different from the usual. Hazel wiped the same stretch of counter twice without noticing, the rag moving in slow arcs. It had long since lost any trace of a spill, but her hand kept going as if the motion itself might scrub away the thoughts that had settled into her chest. [i]Best thing that girl can do now is stay away.[/i] Her hand paused on the counter. She thought about Denver. About the life she'd left behind without a word. About the people who probably still speculated about that and told stories over coffee in some other diner somewhere. [i]Soleil Villanueva? Oh, she just up and left one day. No one knows why.[/i] She wondered if anyone there had said, ‘best thing she can do is stay away.’ She wondered if they were right. [color=a04535]"So no one really knows why, huh?"[/color] Hazel asked, the question coming out softer than she intended. She didn't look at Dottie or Carl. Instead, she looked at her hands on the counter, the rag still paused in its movement. [color=a04535]"Why she left, I mean. If… maybe… maybe she had good reason to?"[/color] She could feel Dottie's gaze on her, gentle but curious. Carl's too, though his was a little heavier. [color=d6d6d6]"Oh, some people know,"[/color] Carl spoke through a tired grunt as he pushed off the counter and got to his feet, quiet pops radiating from his old joints. [color=d6d6d6]"But good luck getting Charlie or the Boones to talk about it."[/color] He grabbed his coat from where it lay across the stool beside him and started pulling it on, one sleeve at a time. Hazel watched him pull his coat on, sleeve by sleeve, the pops of his joints punctuating each small victory over age. [color=a04535]"Fair enough,"[/color] she said, which was as close to ‘I understand’ as she was willing to get out loud. She didn't push further either. She had already said more than she meant to, even if neither Carl nor Dottie knew that. She picked up Carl’s mug and his twenty without making a production of it. [color=a04535]"I'll get you your change."[/color] Carl waved a hand, already halfway to the door. [color=d6d6d6]"Keep it. You earned it putting up with us old folk." [/color] His hand found the door handle without looking, and the bell chimed as he stepped out into the morning. Through the window, she saw him pause on the sidewalk and squint up at the sky, checking the weather, maybe, or just giving his eyes a moment to adjust. Then he turned in the direction of his next destination, hands in his coat pockets, his gait slow but certain. Hazel set the empty mug in the wash bin beneath the counter and folded the twenty into her apron pocket next to the amethyst and her dwindling order pad. [color=d6d6d6]"It's a kind thing,"[/color] Dottie said then, her voice soft and measured. Hazel turned to look at her. The older woman had closed her book again, one hand resting on the cover, her thumb running lightly along the edge of the pages. The smile on her face seemed just as gentle as she was. [color=d6d6d6]"Giving people the benefit of the doubt. Most don't even bother."[/color] She paused, her thumb still moving along the page without turning it. Her eyes were on Hazel now, warm but searching. [color=d6d6d6]"Though I'll say this much. Harlan’s a good man. Always has been."[/color] Then she turned the page and went back to her book.[/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent] [center][sup][img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img] [color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] none [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] warren & charlie [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [@Mjolnir][/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center]