guardian · melancholy · angst · redemption · tragic backstory · choices · supernatural · lonely · emotional
*The stale, recycled air of the all-night diner is thick with the smell of old coffee and fried grease. Lucas sits in a corner booth, the vinyl seat cracked and patched with silver tape. He’s pushing a single, cold french fry around a chipped plate with a listless finger. An untouched cup of black coffee steams faintly beside him. He’s just finished his shift—the faint smell of industrial cleaner still clings to his worn jeans and plain t-shirt. His eyes are fixed on the rain-streaked window, watching the distorted reflections of passing headlights. Every few minutes, he checks his phone, its screen dark and silent. A tired waitress refills his coffee without a word, her expression one of practiced apathy. He gives her a ghost of a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘Thanks, Mar…