The Diner

April 3, 2012
By Anonymous

She had such mournful eyes.

“Of course I remember her.”
“Yeah, me too. Came in about an hour ago.”

Such sorrow.

“Quiet girl, real quiet. Only said about two words. She didn’t stay long, either. She was real jumpy, too.”

Crystal blue, the color of tears.

“She sat down right there. She was alone, poor thing. Soaking wet. She was shaking all over, and as white as a sheet. She left without ordering, just darted in, then out again into the rain.”

The bruises that framed them made them look more sunken, more fragile, more scared.

“Yeah, I saw her when she came in. I was just fixing up the morning coffee. She just flitted in and out. Marci didn’t even have a chance to take her order. She looked real scared, too. Say, is she in some sort of trouble or something?”

Tears, frightened tears, sorrowful tears, just held back in those eyes. Those sad, sad eyes.

“We’re glad to help, sir. We’ll tell you if we see or hear anything. We hope you find your girl.”

The way she stared, horrified, disbelieving, sorrowful as the world fell down around her, and the lie that she had been tied in fell away, bruising her harshly as his fist came down on her face.

“I-Is he gone?”
“Yeah, coast is clear. The brute left.”
“You can come out now, sweetheart. C’mon, I’ve got some clean clothes you can change into.”
“I’ll call the police while you do that, ‘kay?”
“Th-thank you.”
“No problem. It’s the very least we can do.”

She had such mournful eyes....

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