Gemotions

She drummed her fingers on the chipped Formica tabletop, a familiar ritual. The news of Rosie’s Diner shuttering had hit her like a brick. She'd been going there since she was a kid, always getting the same thing: a patty melt and a milkshake. But she wasn't sad. Not really.

The waitress, Doris, a woman who’d seen her through breakups and job losses, shuffled over, a weary smile on her face. "The usual, hon?" she asked, already reaching for the order pad.

"Actually, Doris," she said, her voice unusually firm. “I want the last patty melt ever served here. Make it perfect, alright? And… make it for me, and only me." Doris's eyebrows shot up. Her own presence here for the end? It was exactly where she belonged.