It was late, or rather very early -- not quite four a.m., and the only other patrons in the place were the deputy on duty sitting at the counter and flirting with Betsy as he drank his coffee, and the old guy with the crazy gray whiskers who sat in one of the booths most nights, drinking cup after cup of the high octane mix they called coffee here, complaining of insomnia. Betsy left her post behind the counter with a flirty smile for the deputy, her coffee pot in hand. Like the diner itself, Betsy never changed. Her brown uniform with the odd green piping fit exactly the same over her too thin frame as it had the first day he’d come in. That had been the day he’d turned eighteen and he’d left the pack land like his feet were on fire. He was a little older now, but he still was a lone wolf, separate from the pack. “Coffee?” She hefted the pot toward the thick, ceramic mug in front of Dayton and he shook his head, turned the cup over so she couldn’t fill it; he knew from experience that just saying, “no”
What do You think about Of Cocoa And Men 01 (2011)?
