The young waitress sat at the counter, her tips laid out in front of her as she counted.

Old county songs, soft in the background, as she felt around for her glasses.

A movement from the corner caught her attention.

The last booth, the last customer… creepy. The guy seemed to be staring at her all night, but when she looked…

“I wish… he would just… leave,” she thought.

The creaks and groans of the diner always grated on her.

And the guy in the corner was not helping.

She turned and opened the register, trading her tips for larger bills.

As the drawer dinged shut, the ringing of the bell above the door caused her to start.

Oh…

She could see Jerry, the cook through the window as he walked out to his car.

Her heart sank.

She snuck a glance toward the corner, then, finding the man standing, her heart stopped.

The man reached into his pocket, slowly, deliberately, as he slowly sauntered in her direction. She diverted her gaze, maybe…

She saw his shoes as he stopped in front of her.

As the metal pressed against her hand, the man spoke.

“Annie,” he said softly. “You forgot your glasses again.”

He reached down and took her hand, placing her glass…