Odd.

0.4 Sweet Haven

The fall air was as crisp as its leaves and stole his breath, letting him watch it escape his lips in steaming clouds.

            He tugged the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and stuffed his hands into its pockets as he took a right and made his way down the deserted street. The only light came from the tall street lamps placed close enough that their respected light flirted with one another but never quite touched. He passed each one in silence, his soft footsteps barely heard over the chirp of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl.

            He closed in on the shops that lined Cherry Street, all of the lights off aside from the 24-hour diner on the corner. His parents never liked him eating at the competition (they owned the restaurant across the street) but it was late, the family business wasn't open, and he was starved. So he pulled open the plexi-glass door to Sweet Haven and stepped inside. The familiar scent of bacon and fries wafted over him as he made his way to one of the booths by the windows.

            There were a couple other late-nighters scattered around the diner, each with a mug of steaming coffee and something to occupy themselves with so as not to communicate with one another. He just had his iPod with him but he didn't mind. He was only there for the food anyway.

            Rachel, the waitress who always worked the grave-yard shift, stepped up to his booth with a pot of freshly-ground coffee in hand. Her ruby lips matched the color of her hair and the Sweet Haven t-shirt she was wearing, and he could just make out the arch of her tattoo under her sleeve.

            "Hey sugar," she said as he flipped his ceramic mug over so she could pour in the steaming brown liquid. "The usual?"

            He nodded at her and she gave him that kind smile that crinkled the skin around her eyes and creased her forehead before turning and making her way to the next booth. He pulled out his iPod and unwrapped the cord to his ear buds before sticking them in his ears.

            The brass bell above the door chimed as someone new entered. He looked up, his thumb hovering over the play button as his eyes met a pair of familiar silver ones.

            They held each other's gaze for but a moment before hers shifted to the tables in search of an empty spot. As he tapped the play button on his iPod, she made her way to the table in front of his and sat so they were across from one another.

            He noticed the exhaustion in those silver eyes and the dark circles resting under them. She let that same, army-green messenger bag rest familiarly at her side and pulled a laminated menu toward her as her eyes scanned its contents.

            She must be new to the life of an insomniac, he thought as his iPod sang him a sweet melody. Poor girl.

            Rachel gently placed his food in front of him along with a small pitcher of maple syrup and a jar of fresh strawberry jam.

            "Thanks," he rasped as he gave the waitress a grateful smile.

            "No problem sugar," she said before moving on to the girl across from him with her notepad in hand.

            He watched the two for a moment as the song on his iPod changed once more. The silver-eyed girl pointed at something on the menu and spoke a few words in a soft, melodic tone. Rachel smiled, nodded and scribbled something down on her notepad.

            His stomach growled so he turned to his plate of food. The ceramic dish was piled with waffles, sausage, bacon, sunny-side up eggs and hash browns. The saucer beside it held his toast with a thin square of butter melting in the middle.

            It was a lot of food for 3 a.m. but he missed dinner again (his mom was working late at the hospital and his dad was at the restaurant. He was also lazy and didn't feel like making anything) so he was ravenous. As he spread some strawberry jam on his waffles (don't' ask) he cast another glance at the odd girl across from him who was sipping on iceless water and scribbling on a napkin with a black pen, her vibrant pink nails glinting in the fluorescent light.

            Rachel placed a steaming bowl in front of the girl and smiled that familiar smile before making rounds with her half-filled coffee pot in hand.

            And not once throughout the entire late-night meal, did the silver-eyed girl look his way.