this morning #1851.

this morning, he stepped inside & locked the door behind him. flipped on the lights. bright & early. outside, the sun still coming up. began the daily prep. childhood tunes that’d somehow become “oldies” flowing from the speakers. he used to relish this alone time, back in the days when people still came into the diner. at one point, these early morning hours were the calm before the storm. now, with the growing lack of customers, this prep time only added to the anguish. he’d likely spend most of the day on the bench in front of the diner. alone with his thoughts. alone with the pain of not knowing. not knowing what’d changed. not knowing if he’d ever again get to feel how things used to be. daydreaming about paths not taken.