Chapter Eleven

Nicholas led me inside the diner. I didn’t know what I was expecting. The usual maybe. Stool chairs and a counter where they fry the burgers and the fries, checkboard design flooring, stainless steel tables and leather seats by the window, people still dressed in the clothes they wore the night before, much like myself. However, when I stepped inside the diner, I was pleasantly surprised.

The smell of homemade muffins filled my nostrils. I was reminded of my mother’s kitchen when I was a child. An upbeat music was blasting through the speakers. The floor was rather made of shiny, dark brown wood. The wooden tables and wooden chairs were occupied by patrons within the range of forty-five to sixty. Lively abstract paintings adorned the walls and the ceiling had red, brown and white lamps.

The man frying the burgers by the counter looked to be about sixty years old, and so were the cashier, waiters and waitresses. There were also little people working as waiters and waitresses.

I was im