Virtue [H.S]

THREE

♔

The bright, fluorescent lights of the diner are making my eyes burn, and are causing an ache to form deep within my skull. I pull my the hood of my black sweatshirt over my messy bun in an attempt to block some of harsh luminescence, taking a one last deep inhale of the cigarette between my lips, before snubbing it out on the bottom of my battered Nike Jordan 1's.

Renae's Diner is a rundown building only two blocks away from Virtue, and it being open 24 hours has resulted in Gwen and I becoming regular customers over the last year or so. Often dragging ourselves inside at the crack of dawn, after a long shift at the club, with tired muscles and dressed in comfortable pyjamas, paired oddly with our smudged, thick makeup. 

I look out the large front windows, seeing that there are beams of sunlight beginning to break through the thick smog of the city, indicating the beginning of a new day. I check the time on my phone, reading 5.35am. I groan at the sight, digging the balls of my palms into my closed eyes.

"Do you have any pain killers?" I ask my roommate. 

"You've got to talk to Reign about this." Gwen says, spearing a piece of pancake on the end of her fork, ignoring my question. "She'll get the prick banned, you know she will."

"Yeah, usually she would. But something tells me that this time is different."

"Well, you need to do something. When he requests for you tonight, I'll go instead."

"Something tells me that that isn't the best idea."

"We can try-"

"Gwen, seriously, I don't think the man's dangerous or anything, just a pain in the ass. Come on, you know me. I can handle it. If anything, you should be more worried about him." I shrug, cracking my knuckles, an anxious habit. "Can we please talk about something else? My head hurts, and this topic isn't helping."

In response to my topic change request, Gwen begins to wordlessly dig through her purse, before pulling out a small, silver coin. It glints in the artificial light as she hands it to me, her face stoic and eyes smudged in black eyeliner. I take it in confusion, raising it towards my face to inspect it closely, squinting through the throbbing in my head.

Stamped on both surfaces of the small circle is a large 2, and around the curved edges, in small writing, reads the script one day at a time. I stare at it for a moment, brows furrowed. I open my mouth to question my roommate, when it suddenly clicks. I gasp in excitement, my hood falling off my head as I quickly sit up in my seat.

"Oh my God, Gwen!" I exclaim loudly. "Two years?"

"As of yesterday." She shrugs.

"Why didn't you tell me? This is amazing news!"

"Yeah, amazing." She drawls, and I'm surprised to hear the sarcasm in her tone. "730 days sober and I still see opioids in my dreams. We have a real winner over here."