Her Return
Maya's POV The diner was empty at four o'clock. Not closed — between shifts, the lull after lunch and before dinner, when the waitress counted tips and the cook smoked outside. Maya sat in their booth, the one by the window where Adrian had first learned to burn eggs and laugh. She nursed coffee that had gone cold twenty minutes ago, her laptop open to job listings she hadn't read, her phone face-down beside the salt shaker. She didn't know why she came here. Only that it was the one place that still felt like hers. The door opened. The bell chimed. Maya didn't look up. She knew the rhythm of this hour — delivery drivers, students escaping afternoon lectures, the occasional professor seeking refuge from office hours. None of them concerned her. Then the shadow fell across her table.
- Writer
