Last seen basking in the warmth of a moment that felt like forever, though forever turned out to be much shorter than expected. Last seen with music thrumming through his bones, bass vibrating in his chest like a second heartbeat.…

The diner had become like a second home to me. It was something I could depend on—familiar faces, the clatter of dishes, the steady hum of the refrigerator. The routine was my anchor, a way to keep the world in…

Ray had always been around, just like the weathered storefronts on main street or the rusted shell of that car on the corner by the gas station he was a fixture of the community, a landmark. He had piercing blue…

The diner was never particularly busy, but the lights were always on. Inside those walls, it felt like nothing could touch you, like the world was safe and predictable, I would sit wrapped in the familiar hum of the refrigerator…

I work at the Sunset Cafe, a fancy name for a rundown little restaurant situated along a desolate stretch of route 66. It’s a place people often visit but rarely linger, we serve greasy burgers that leave a sheen on…