Walking uncertainly into the faded diner, she falters slightly at the ... worn look of it all. She remembers this restaruant as important to her history, the setting for so many grand, yet truly inconsequential occurences in her previous life. It's aging hits her hard.

Sliding her hand slowly down the sun-streaked Formica counter, turned a dull yellow with age, her eyes passing slowly over the torn vinyl booths that housed so many [skeletons[ and dreams she had nearly forgotten, and a small sigh escapes her lips. So many loves and lives and friends and jokes, forgotten so quickly, passed over like toys of childhood for the shaky prizes of adulthood. What kind of prizes did I recieve? she wonders. The passion and joy, as well as the sorrow that she used to feel so deeply and so often were now vaguely familiar memories, thrown into the dust with old journals and poetry, abandoned for more useful things. She is, she realizes ... comfortable.

She sinks into once of the booths that were designated for her and her "moolie" friends. The woman shakes away a dual-vision - one seeing this closed-down and abandoned restaurant, depressing in its utter normalcy. The other vision, however, sees the people and faces from her (and the restaurant's) good ol' days. Finally settling back, she simply allows the shifting back and forth to continue as she sees flashes of joy between flashes of drab complicity. Loud and raucous laughter echoes in the empty building, bringing back a time when she, for once in her life, had felt loved.

Finally, her vision settles and, emerging from where the kitchen USED to be, comes a true face from the past. He is even, she laughingly notes, wearing his "manager" pin and carrying two cups of coffee. "Coffee or cancer?" he asks without really asking. As he unzips his sweater, he lights a cigarette at the same time, grimacing at her. "What the hell's up with you? Look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"Have, kind of." she whispers, not really sure if she's actually lost it this time.

He looks at her and shrugs (he always was pretty prepared for the unusual, she remembers). "We all have ghosts. The only difference is whether you embrace them or shove them away."

She begins to nod her head and with each nod, she sees the diner brighten more. Suddenly, the diner is filled with families eating, servers serving, and people laughing. A smile of pure joy spreads across her face, lighting up her features and her world.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," she finally answeres. "Just embracing my ghosts."

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