DANIELA CHIU: 9 AM. A DINER SMELLING OF BREAKFAST FOOD AS RAIN PATTERS ON THE WINDOW.

the bell over the door jingled low as eileen slipped inside, pushing damp hair back from her face. the rain had crept under the collar of her jacket, misting her skin with cold, but the warmth of the diner and greasy scent of bacon seemed to freshen her up. she scanned the diner without thinking — old habit — and then her eyes landed on dani. corner booth, back to the wall, looking slightly out of place. eileen made her way over with a calm, unhurried gait, boots scuffing lightly on the linoleum and sliding into the booth across from dani without asking. 'hope you didn’t start without me,'

the hum of the diner filled the silence between them — plates clinking, rain whispering at the windows. eileen’s gaze swept dani’s face with careful curiosity, and a bit of concern to go with it. < you okay? > hands move with a practiced grace in their communication. it wasn’t just about the look on dani’s face or the stories trailing behind her like shadows. eileen had met women who’d faced monsters, angels, worse. but dani . . . dani felt like she wasn’t done running yet. and eileen had a hunch that if she didn’t ask now, dani might just vanish before she ever got a chance. @malum-incessu.