THIRTEEN | ANOTHER

I wiped my hands on my red apron. My cut was stinging and itching, which I hoped were signs that it was starting to heal in earnest. Harper had slapped my hand away when it had begun to scab at the edges, and threatened to wind a big bandage around my head to keep my picking fingers away. 

I usually felt as though my time at the diner was made up of blocks that I marked off as empty in my brain. Sometimes I’d try to pass the hours by thinking about new hunting strategies, but for the most part I let my body glide around on autopilot until I could finally clock out.

If Grace was in, as she was tonight, the time would pass much quicker. It also didn’t feel quite so wasted – between the gossip and the giggles, my time behind the counter felt meaningful, in a way that it didn’t when the newer staff, or less friendly servers, were in.

Grace tossed her long, blonde plait over her shoulder. She watc