Jake's Diner

Sylvie packed her ragged overnight bag in a hurry. Urging another shirt and an extra pair of jeans into the already jammed space, she finally closed the top and sat down hard until the mound yielded enough to coax the zipper around its track. She checked her watch. Ten minutes to get over to Jake’s Diner where the Trailways bus made its one daily stop. If I miss that, she thought, there may not be another chance. Ever.

Sylvie patted the wad of cash in her pocket to steady her nerves. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do, she decided as she scribbled a note to Lucas. ‘I’m leaving. You know why. Get over it.’ She signed her name but skipped putting a heart instead of a dot over the ‘I’. She left it on the pillow then wrapped her thick, black hair into a ponytail, grabbed her luggage, and escaped out the door.

The rusty thermometer outside the barber shop showed the temperature pushing a hundred degrees. Sylvie waited a few moments then dragged her luggage through the diner’s ancient screen door to escape the heat. She perched on the edge of one of the red-upholstered stools and eyed the only other person in the place. A portly, old gentleman sporting a pair of red suspenders and standing behind the counter.

“You’re new, ain’t you?” Sylvie asked.

He nodded and picked up a dish towel to wipe the counter. “The name’s Mordecai.”

His bleach-white shirt and hair shone as if they were lit by an internal glow. She looked up at the ceiling and vaguely wondered if the lights had been replaced with some sort of super charged bulb.

“Need a menu, Sylvie?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nope,” then squinted back at the man who was now staring straight at her. “How’d you know my name?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.”

Before Sylvie could ask what the hell that meant, his attention switched to the front window. She followed his gaze and her mouth dropped open. Outside, day had turned to night. She checked her watch again. It was two minutes after one.

“Where's the damn bus?” Sylvie murmured to herself.

“Won’t be coming today,” he said in reply. “God has other plans.”

His voice had a kind of echo to it, but a kinder and gentler tone than had ever come out of Lucas’ mouth.

“You say your name's Mordecai,” she said. “You mean like the angel?”

He nodded. “Exactly.”