Mike left the motel in Kirksville around seven thirty Sunday morning and drove for two hours before arriving in Gardenia. The town itself wasn’t much to look at, with a population barely reaching seven thousand, but the community was diverse and bustling. Downtown was full of cars, new and vintage, shining and busted. Each shop seemed to be full of people, all chatting in casual tones of acquaintance. Even as a grown man, Mike felt an odd sense of intimidation. Though he wasn’t planning on stopping until Wichita, Mike decided to stop in for breakfast at one of the local diners, all of which seemed to have business.
Mike half expected the customers to stop eating and stare at him as he walked in, but aside from a few friendly smiles, nobody seemed to notice him. He sat at the bar on a swiveling stool with leather that felt thirty years old. A waitress who looked about seventeen immediately skipped over.
“Hi!” she said. Mike waited for her to say something else.
“Hello,” he said to break the following silence.
“Is this your first time?”
“First time here or in the town?”
“Both I guess,” she giggled. Usually this sort of conversation annoyed Mike, but something about the girl had an aura of
