a minute, Joe cleared his throat loudly.
“All right,” he grumbled. “Enough crying on my floor.”
I laughed weakly.
“We open at five tomorrow morning.”
He pointed toward the kitchen.
“Hope you’re ready to learn how to run a diner, partner.”
And for the first time in my entire life, something inside me changed.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Just enough.
Enough to make me stop thinking about surviving the next week.
And start imagining what it might feel like to actually build a life.
