A Problematic Solution

After bailing out of the trunk, the night hadn’t gotten much better. I’d been walking for at least an hour until I finally came to a town. Well, I guess you could call it a town. It consists of a gas station, a pathetic collection of trailers and mobile homes, and a diner. The sun was just coming up as I walked through the door of the diner, the bell mocking me.
The man that appeared in the mirror behind the counter was pretty shocking. Dirt stained clothes, with a hint of blood on the shirt. My ear was almost as bad as I had imagined it, so I didn’t look too hard. The waitress at the register was looking pretty hard, though she didn’t say anything. The rest of the diner was empty, sounds of cooking from the kitchen. I slumped into a stool at the counter, too tired to try and explain myself. The waitress slinked down, looking at me with disdain.
“Can I help you?” disdain in her voice, too.
“Coffee,” I croaked.
I didn’t want it, but I needed an excuse to sit. As I waited, the bell chimed. I froze.

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