I'm A Myth -- On hold

Chapter Four

   Emma let out a relieved sigh as she finally arrived at the diner. She ran to the back door pulling it open and slamming it behind her.
 
  The diner's walls were made of adobe, striving to have an old timey feel. They were a pain to keep clean, since they were painted white, but for the first time Emma was glad for them. They effectively shut out the outside and the crazy input. With the tile floors, and the industrial style kitchen. She let out another sigh as her headache lessened.

"Good morning Love" drawled Darlene, The diner's extremely southern owner. She called everyone she met love, or dear, or honey. "How was your weekend?"

"Um, sleepy" Emma said. Forcing a smile. "Didn't do much. Just rested"

"Well good for you dear, I'm sure ya needed it"

Emma smiled as she walked over to where she had left her apron yesterday.
Wait, not yesterday. Friday. Almost three days ago.

  She pulled her apron on, grabbed a coffee pot and a note pad, and headed out into the crowded diner.

A hour ticked by uneventfully, as she went from table to table taking orders, pouring coffee, and clearing up after people that left. She blocked out the memories of her strange dream, and even stranger morning, losing her self in work.

  She saw three men enter the diner. Walking up to them and showing them to a table, she put on her best "small town waitress happy to serve you" smile. Pouring them coffee and spreading out menu's, and then heading off to refill her coffee pot, before coming back to take their order.

"So, have y'all decided what y'all want?" She asked

  She looked to the the man to her right. He was about her age. With a strong handsome face, dark hair, and piercing blue eyes. He smiled at her, and Emma somehow felt safe in his gaze.

  "I'll take the biscuits and gravy special please" he said.

   She smiled back, writing down his order. She looked to the man next to him. An older man, with salt and pepper hair.

"And you sir?"she asked

   He looked at her haughtily, throwing his menu down as if he was offended by it. "I want carrot cake"

"Um, I don't think we offer carrot cake on our breakfast menu. Is their something else you'd like?" She asked, confused.

"I just want carrot cake, just go see if you have some."

Emma's temper rose. But she checked it as she smiled back at him. "Yes sir, I'll check that." She turned, taking the other man's order. Smiling at then once again, saying "and I'll have yalls food out soon" and turning to head to the kitchen.

She stomped into the kitchen, heading over to the cook. "Do we have carrot cake?" She asked exasperatedly.

"Carrot cake?" He asked

"Yes, some jerk out there requires carrot cake for breakfast."

  He laughed, shaking his head. "Check the fridge, we might have some leftover from the Friday diner special."

  She stomped over to the fridge, yanked it open wondering why she was letting this get to her so much. Why she felt so, revengeful. Snap out of it, and do your job. She searched the fridge, her heart sinking when she found some. She had been hoping she wouldn't, so the jerk could order something actually off the menu.
She put in on a plate, stifling the urge to smash the cake with her fist. She then grabbed the coffee pot and headed back out to the table.

"Your carrot cake" she said, with a plastic grin.

"Hmph," the man grunted. Sliding his coffee cup towards her, tapping the rim and looking at her expectantly.
She swallowed her agitation, and went to pour. The man began talking to his friends, speaking loudly waving his hands around. She had almost filled his cup when he swept his arm across the table, sending the cup of boiling liquid across her dress.
She let out a surprised shriek of pain, jumping back. A tiny splash had hit the man, while the majority had hit her.

The man jumped up, bellowing foul language. "You incompetent b*****" he screamed, his morning coffee breath washing over her in a sickening wave.

  Emma felt rage billow up inside her. Cold fury. And for the first time, in six years, her guard slipped.

Emma's eyes were different then human eyes, she had realized that quickly as she tried to survive amongst humans after her family was killed. She had learned to cloak them, turning their unnaturally vivid colors, and the liquid flames that seemed to reside within her irisis, to simple hazel. But as rage built up within her, her attempt to cloak them failed.

  The man stopped his bellowing, staring at her eyes, but instead of fear and surprise he seemed instead almost pleased.

  He stepped forward, dropping what Emma now realized had been an act, his face now grave, did and what Emma thought was impossible.
   Something she thought only she could do.

  He flashed his eyes back at her.