The rain came down in torrents, hitting the ground savagely. Thunder roared and lightning forked across the inky sky. The wind tore at the few remaining leaves on the trees, whistling and howling as it tugged on the boughs of the old oaks. Ominous clouds blanketed the sky, blocking out the stars and moon. It was completely dark accepting the light that streamed out of the windows of the tiny diner on the corner of the street. A figure stood staring out the window. Her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and stains on her white shirt. A small brown notepad clenched in her hand as she watched the tempest rage. Sighing, she turned away from the window.
She smiled down at the two elders sitting in the booth, their hands clasped together. A caramel colored curl drifted into her eyes and she pushed it behind her ear before speaking, “Hello Mr and Mrs. Anderson! I suppose you would like your regular order?”
The two stared up at her and Mr. Anderson kissed his wife’s wrinkled hand before nodding, “You know us old geezers, Dahlia, we’re not really ones for trying new things.”
“Alrighty then! One apple pie, to split, and two mugs of hot chocolate it is,” She tore off the receipt and placed it on the table beside there still clasped hands. She mustered one more smile before turning and heading to the cash register. The smile was replaced with a slight frown as she walked across the room, weaving between tables and hungry patrons. She arrived at the small bar and called out to Ray.
“The Anderson’s are here!” She turned and hurried away before he could reply. She knew what he was going to say but really did not want to hear it right now. She walked to the next table. A cheerful smile played on her lips as she took the young couples order, their tiny two-year old smiling toothlessly at her.
An hour passed quickly in the same fashion; taking orders, serving, busing the tables, repeat. The storm never wavered, but only grew in strength and ferocity. The last customer of the night exited the diner as thunder shook the entire building. The lights flickered as Dahlia cleaned a table. Beads of sweat collected on her brow as she scrubbed at a stain that was too deep to get off with a normal wipe down. Strands of dark blonde curls fell into her eyes as she rubbed harder. Sharp pains radiated off her tender feet and the muscles of her arms cried out in unison, but she couldn’t stop. She had to get this done. Come on Dahlia. She scrubbed even harder before finally giving up. It was still there, but a little lighter than it had been. She paused only a moment before walking over to the next booth.
It was the last table to clean, and she walked slowly, feet crying out with every step. Finally reaching the booth she leaned against it. Black spots danced in front of her eyes as a feeling of weightlessness took over. She closed her eyes and waited for the feeling to subside. After a moment she opened them and turned back to the table. A pounding had replaced the weightlessness, she winced quietly as she loaded a small tub with the leftover plates, silverware, and cups before placing it on the floor beside the booth. Grabbing her rag from its resting place on her shoulder she wiped down the table, or started to. Before she could get any farther than putting the cloth on the table, a heavy hand was placed on her shoulder.
She tensed for a moment before sighing and blowing the hair out of her eyes. Dang, she cursed under her breath.
“You were supposed to leave four hours ago, Dahlia,” Ray’s deep, soothing voice was tinged with disappointment. She turned slowly, her eyes stuck on the floor.
“I’m almost done. Just this one table left,” The fake cheer in her voice fooled neither of them. And after a moment of halfhearted scrubbing she dropped the rag onto the table before sitting in the booth. Ray sat across from her, staring at her with his warm brown eyes. His close cropped black hair was dusted with flour, as was his chocolately brown skin. His normally smiling face was drawn into a frown. Dahlia traced the scratches in the wood of the table.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
little Moth
किशोर उपन्यास"I don't need anything else. I have you, little Moth, and thats enough for me" Dahlia is alone. She has been for almost eight years. She's been fine. Been making it work, but with only a year left till she turns eighteen, the pressure is mounting. S...
