⌞ o. | ❝would you like some pie?❞ ⌝

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⌞ o

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o. | would you like some pie?



     SWEET STUFFY AIR FILLED the diner, music blurted out of the jukebox and the walls were painted in a bright turquoise. Steam rose from the pot of freshly brewed coffee, the slurping of a man at the bar, trying to get the last bit out of his strawberry milkshake, was swallowed by the loud, rhythmic sounds of the music and from outside thick raindrops drummed against the windows. The grey sky formed an unnatural contrast between the inner life of the diner and the weather outside, as if it were in a completely different world, fully ignoring the precipitous weather.

     Only the waitress behind the bar looked straight out of the window, leaning over the counter, the cloudy sky reflecting in her azure blue eyes. She had tied her light brown hair back into a high ponytail, the turquoise hairpiece matching her uniform, holding the little strands out of her face that had already come loose from her hairstyle.

     Yet the young woman didn't seem affected by the weather, an absent look on her face, as if she was chasing completely different thoughts. She barely noticed the melodic ringing of the bell, which addressed itself every time someone entered Rosie's Diner, when her colleague spoke to her, pulling her back to reality: "You know, I really don't mind Roxette, but if anyone else turns on How Do You Do, I'll smash the jukebox with my own hands." She let out a theatrical sigh. "Why do people never know when it's enough?"

     "Gail, the order for table 17!" Tony called out from the kitchen before Cassidy had a chance to answer her colleague.

     She couldn't help but grin when Gail let out another sigh - this time a lot louder, not even bothering to hide her annoyance - and had already turned away from her when she turned around again and pleaded, "Please, turn on another song!"

     With the grin still tugging on her lips, she complied with her friend's request, walked around the bar and supported herself with her hands on the glass of the juke box. She would lie if she said she hadn't heard every song at least ten times before. Thoughtfully, the young woman pursed her lips, tapping against the disc with the nail of her index finger until she finally decided on a song.

     She turned on her own axis as the famous trumpet opened one of her favourite songs, her brown curls flying through the air and landing back on her shoulders as she came to a halt, only to approach her original place behind the bar with dancing movements a second later. "Summertimeee," Cassidy began singing the same song, Gail also started singing infront of a young customer's table after she had served the girl the scrambled eggs with bacon, her hips moving to the beat of the music. Their voices were accompanied by the melodic voice of Billie Holiday as they danced behind the bar. The dark eyes of the cook watched the two women in amusement, his arms resting on the separation from the kitchen, his foot tapping the floor to the beat of the music.

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