grief is a house where the chairs have forgotten how to hold us
when: early morning
where: moonlight diner
who: @diofoti
Nights fade into days so slowly. On the days that Abigail saw the sun rise, which was most days, it seemed to do so almost excruciatingly slowly. Maybe it was because she hated nights; hated how the crowds parted and she couldn’t assimilate as easily. Perhaps it was similar to how a car ride to get somewhere fun always feels like forever as a child, but the trip back home seems over in a moment. Yes, Abigail Quinn had begun to hate nights. Though they once came with promises of baths, being tucked in, and having blissful dreams; this was no longer the case. Now, nights consisted of a cacophony of men circling in and out of her designated room at Great Madam’s, with only time for bathroom breaks and fixing of lipstick.
But when the clock struck 6, one hour before sunrise, Abigail was free to leave, which she had done today. While she usually headed straight home to sleep, she was way more restless than normal, and had found herself tossing and turning before eventually decided to get out of bed, still in pajamas, and come to the Moonlight Diner. While typically, Abi would be terrified to be seen in public in such a state, she knew that the people there this early wouldn’t care.
Then again, maybe most people wouldn’t care. Considering her job now. That was certainly stirring up more gossip at St. Peter’s than her showing up to get coffee in pajama pants and a t-shirt.
As she slurped down the rest of her coffee, she watched out the window as the sky began to become illuminated with a soft, golden light. As it did, a tall, handsome stranger walked into the diner. His hair, in disarray, perfectly framed his megawatt smile. She analyzed him briefly, before calling out to the waiter.
“Put whatever he’s getting on my tab.” She called out, before giving him another glance over as he looked her way.
“You’re new to Sallybrook, yeah?”
