Jack sits in an old fashioned diner alone at a table near the window. His notebook lays open to a blank page in front of him. He gently taps his pen against the spiral and stares out the window. It is late night and all is dark expect for a streetlamp a few feet off illuminating an empty street. No one passes by and nothing moves.
A waitress, about 22 years old with big orange hair wearing a light pink uniform, approaches him. "You're gonna have to order somethin' if you wanna keep sitting there," she says.
"I'll take a cup of coffee," Jack mumbles without moving his gaze from out the window, "Please."
The waitress nods and walks away. He then turns back to his notebook and signs. He has dark heavy bags under his eyes and begins to rub them. The waitress soon returns with the coffee and places it on Jack's table.
"So what are you working on? I see you're really getting at it," she nods her head towards the empty notebook.
"It's nothing," Jack snaps.
"Okaaay, then. Sorry I bothered." She begins to walk away.
"Wait— no. Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just— I don't know what I'm doing."
"It's alright. Are you a writer? I've seen you scribbling in that notebook before in the café down the street. Got a case of writer's block?"
"It's not so much that I don't know what to write, but more so I have so many thoughts swimming in my head that I can't focus on a single thing."
"Mhmm. I feel like sleep would probably help with that."
"I don't want to sleep. Not anymore. My dreams... I don't want any more…"
"Nightmares?"
"Sorry, I don't mean to be wasting your time talking about my stupid issues."
"Oh don't worry about it, hun. Not like I'm really needed right now," she nudges to the rest of the diner, where one lumber-jack-type man eats at the bar and the rest is empty.
"Well, it's silly really."
"I've seen just about everything in this here diner and I'm sure whatever it is you're going through is nothing silly."
"I appreciate what you're doing, but I just… I just can't make friends anymore."
"I don't need to be your friend. But if you need someone to talk to, I can listen."
"Look, I really do appreciate it, but I just can't. I have these stupid dreams about people I know… And then things just go badly for them."
"You can't blame yourself for what happens to other people—"
"I just can't. I don't want anyone else to get hurt," Jack whispers as he gets up and grabs his things. He puts down the money for his coffee and exits the diner.