@hd7370
the city is already burning hot today, stuffed with tourists looking for an escape, the roads chockfull with locals who are fleeing to the beaches. she has been working since seven, serving sweating glasses of cold sodas and iced coffees to the flushed masses who come into the restaurant for relief. the ac has been rattling all morning, unnervingly loud. elia prays it doesn't break down during her shift.
the bell above the door rings. elia looks over, eyes sweeping over the tall figure, no-bullshit look in his eyes. there's an itch of familiarity there, but it takes her a minute to remember him. oh !
los angeles, summer 2023. she had been working all day, picked up a shift for a colleague stuck at home with their sick kid. there was no one left in the restaurant, only a thirty-something, perhaps forty-year-old man sitting in a corner booth, silently enjoying a coffee after what she presumed was a day as long as hers. kitchen staff was in the back, she alone in the front, mopping the floor. bell rung. in came a customer with pocket knife in hand, nervous demeanor. she had stared for a minute, frozen, unsure what to do. she settled for inviting him to sit, but her voice rung out high, nervous. if he sat down, she would take his order and then run into the kitchen, call the cops. he did not sit down. he stepped forward instead and opened his mouth, clearly about to make a demand, but he only got as far as don't say a fucking word when he was spectacularly tackled to the ground by the other customer. knee on his back, pinning him down securely, then no-bullshit, friendly eyes found hers. you okay?
instinctive smile finds the corner of her lips. elia makes a beeline for his table ( no way she is letting anna take this one ), notepad and pen already in hand. " good morning. my name is elia, i will be your server for today. what can i get you ? it's um- it's on the house. "
