The Diner

They changed his name, and gave him new documents and ID. His passport was new and shiny, with stamps from Austria, England and Sweden. He'd never been either place. He even had a sign on his front door that said «Moore» and a doormat that said «Welcome». The house was brown, and suited him quite well. He liked the stone fireplace, and his little garden. The colour made the house fade into the background in the early hours of the morning like it wanted to be more connected to nature. He found himself sitting on the porch when he couldn't sleep just staring into the night at the trees and flowers he knew were there.

He had met her at the local diner, she was a waitress there. He always sat at the same table at the window, a table he knew was hers, and they had become friends. It was very nice to talk to someone real once in a while. Her name was Jane, and she dreamed of traveling. She had huge dark eyes almost the same colour as his coffee. She refilled his coffee cup without asking, and they'd talk if the diner wasn't busy. She worked almost every day, so he came almost everyday. When she'd asked his name the first week he had said Joe, but it still felt strange. He'd known a guy named Joe once back in High School, he had been a funny guy with brown curls. He wasn't funny, and his hair was black. But when she called him by name it almost felt like it was his.

He had a burner phone on his bedsidetable, cash and a gun in the drawer. They´d call him sometimes just to make sure everything was quiet. It was, the peaceful town would be the last place they'd look for him. October was cold and windy. He was raking leaves in his garden when she came by. She stood on his lawn holding a child´s hand. Putting on a brave face, but her eyes were sad. «Do you want coffee?,» he said, and she almost smiled. The child started chasing the leaves in the yard, he let him spread the leaves he'd just spent half an hour raking into a pile. The child had big, brown eyes. They let him play in the garden and she cried tears that landed on his doormat. «I´m sorry,» she said. He held her for a long time.

She got all of his cash, crisp, untraceable bills. She was still wearing her diner apron, and she put them in the front pocket. Jane didn't ask him where the money came from, and he didn't tell her. «Travel, as far as you can. Wherever you want to go.» he said. All the leaves were left shattered around the lawn that night. He kept coming to the diner for another week. No one knew where she had gone, and a new waitress had taken her place. He switched tables to one in the corner so he had an overview of the room. A man didn't come asking for her until another week had passed. His hair was greasy, and his shirt was wrinkled. He threw a chair and shattered a coffee cup. Black liquid splattered across the white surface of the table. He helped clean up the mess.

She never came back to town, and in December it was time to leave. He stood outside his brown house, and waited for the car. It drove smoothly up the driveway barely moving the gravel. They were happy with him, happy everything would soon be over. «Almost time to go back to your old life,» he was told getting into the car. The trial was broadcasted on live television, and he told all of them the truth. He watched himself on television afterwards drinking cold coffee. Two months later he got a letter in his dented letterbox. Everything was right except for the name.

Reviews

[B. Boileau]

Oh my god... what happens next ?!? Your words drew me in and left me wanting more ! But you ended it perfectly. Thank you. You made my night.

[Johanna]

And you made mine! 😊 can't believe you liked it.. I usually don't post my short stories you see.. Thank you so much. This made me happy 😊