text: The worn-down diner was oddly empty for a weekend. The soft, electric glow of the aged lamps illuminated the cracked, red vinyl of the vacant booths. Bored, the waitress wandered between tables- filling the mugs of the scattered patrons and wiping up the occasional mess. Aside from the clatter of the dishes in the kitchen and the hushed murmur of two men conversing quietly over cups of mediocre coffee the diner was filled with a near overwhelming quiet. “More?” Asked the waitress, her voice strained with the weight of fatigue. I looked at her, unintentionally picking apart every detail of her face. The day had left faint purple rings around her aging eyes. Wrinkles toyed with the corner of her mouth as she spoke, hinting at a life filled with more frowns then smiles. The look of pity, tinged with a poorly hidden bit of repulsion incited feelings of annoyance and self loathing within my gut. As much as I detested the watered-down, lukewarm, gritty liquid I accepted a second cup. Again left alone with my musings, I turned my attention to the grey world outside. Night had crept up on the city. Every now and again a couple would wander by, huddled together under the dim light of the street lights. A slight breeze churned up the leaves and debris that had gathered together along the curbs. It seemed as though the entire world had gone to sleep leaving only a few brave souls to traverse through this scene of darkness and silence. The odd car would drive past occasionally. Headlights pierced the night, overpowering the muted light of the street lamps and illuminating everything in harsh, blinding brilliance. One of these cars pulled up in front of the diner and parked. The glare of the lamps roused a somber muttering of a complaint out of the two men in the corner as the car went dark and still in the lot outside. I stood up, drained the last of my now cold coffee from the small ceramic mug and approached the waitress at the cash register. She smiled half heartedly, her eyes flickering over to the Coca-Cola clock on the wall as she counted down the seconds until her shift ended. That smile quickly faded as she saw not the $3.50 she expected for the coffee but the foreboding barrel of the weapon in my hand. Words of apology crossed my lips as I reached over the register and emptied the drawer. There was not much to be found between the plastic dividers, the night had been slow. But it would be enough, perhaps for a blanket, or another coat, something to keep the chill from my bones at night. As I stuffed the bills into my pocket, I took one last look around the diner. The men in the corner continued talking; unaware of what was going on but 20 feet from where they sat. An old woman stared at me in silence, her eyes burning with disgust and disapproval but not a hint of fear. The waitress, sweating and on the brink of collapse shut the now empty register drawer with a rattle and a click. Again I apologized, the terror in her eyes sinking into my stomach with the all too familiar heavy weight of guilt. My battered shoes padded softly across the well trod carpet as I left and turned to amble down the tree lined street. The bell on the door chimed quietly as it shut, closing the warmth of the diner off from the chill of the world outside. I gathered my shabby coat around me in a hopeless attempt to protect myself from the bite of the breeze and let myself get lost in the unending maze of the city streets.