What You’d do for a friend. With shovels and strangers.

It was a hole in the wall of the road, barely an excuse to keep a staff of six, and really, it was proof of the infinite mercy of truckers and tourists. 

That might be unfair, and anyone could notice that the diner at the moment is lacking a name, but the name doesn’t matter. It’s been changed multiple times, under new management, with nearly the same staff.

This could be anywhere really.

Which in theory is a good thing, it wouldn’t be a good old slice of americana if it didn’t have a heaping helping of roadway.

But that was just how she thought of it, driving up with the barest facade of normalcy. She was in that staff of six, and she was trying to keep her cool.

She’d been in an argument with her partner earlier that day, and she was hoping to be productive, or to at least be paid for her wasted time. 

Flo Johnson had terrible taste in men. This was if anything at least the third piece of trivia that anyone who’d come to know her, would learn.

Flo over dyes her hair whether she has time for the salon or not, and she hasn’t seen her real hair color since she was thirteen. She’s not sure what color it was, or is now, but a lifetime in the service industry maywell have made it grey.

There are alot of things Flo Johnson has been doing since she was thirteen, the extent of such things might’ve been grossly exaggerated when she was younger, though she’d long since made good on the gossip.

It was going to be a hot day, and while she had her own concerns she was glad to be out in the front rather than the kitchen. 

There was really no room in her apartment, and she was getting restless, so it was good to work that day.

She almost wanted to look into her trunk, before going in.

That wasn’t a good idea, but she felt it all the same.

She shook the thought from her head as she punched in and greeted her coworker, “Hey, Alyce how are things?”

“Great, could you mind table six?”

“Of course.” 

And she went straight to work, introducing herself to table six, topping off table four’s coffee and taking their order before meandering in by the doorway to direct new customers.

The day sped by in all the same way, table four needed iced tea, and table three was having trouble picking something out for the youngest.

It was that happy spastic kind of day she needed after everything.

Phrases like, “where’s the ketchup?” and “Miss, could you fetch a-” interspersed with the rustled clank of heavy duty utensils against heavy colorfully enameled porcelain.

She was almost fine, until those last sorted words warbled past.

It wasn’t as if she knew them clearly, or could trust herself to have done so. She imagined herself strong in that moment, alpha-bitch taking her power. But she’d only run away. And there was nothing brave in that.

Flo wasn’t any of those things she’d like to be but as the day wore away towards its hottest hour she still got lunch. Set far in the back, right by the lavatory.

She was glad that, in a frazzled day full of fear and indecision, she'd managed to make her own lunch.

Even if worry became her, tips weren’t much to go on. Lunch even at the diner would’ve done nothing for her bank account, and while she was partial to the gyro it wasn’t near worth it.

She took the time while she ate to watch the patrons, as they shuffled eating their meals, all attempting to expend as little heat producing energy as possible.

Alyce was taking up for her likely very short break, while Flo started to make note of everyone she recognized.

Working at a diner often meant relying on strange traffic, but that didn’t stop nearby locals from eating there.

Almost everyone did, and while most in her position liked a firm distance it didn’t stop Flo from keeping a tight lineup in her mind of repeat customers. It was sensible from a financial standpoint, but it was sometimes easier to look at a room when it wasn’t just strangers and people you work with.

Flo watched as a cop she’d recognized from speed traps walked in, being little more than a nuisance on her way to and from work she almost didn’t recognize him off duty.

But a face was a face, and she knew it like anyone. She led him to the third booth, and fetched him some coffee, before running through to pour the decaf at table two.

There was part of her that wanted the day to end properly, for a strange revelation on the five o’clock news, and for the diner to get name dropped for a non-drug related offence, before promptly changing the designation.

Flo wondered if the Cop’s general lack of suspicion in any way reflected on the establishment she worked for, or theoretically on the caliber of anyone who happened upon the diner. 

It had to stink by now.

She took his peaceful departure as proof. She was unlikely to be caught. So when it became known that Judy wouldn’t be in for the dinner shift, she took the time readily.

And that gets her to the end of the day, a soft wearing till twilight with little more than three visitors at a time. All manned by her and Jerry, the cook on night shift.

Soon it’s just her and Jerry.

And she still doesn’t want to go home.

“We got thirty left, you know.”

“Yeah,” she felt the overwork mellow that she thrived on leaving her fully. Things were falling apart, what was she going to do?

“Are you alright? Miss Johnson?” Jerry said, overly polite in a young shade of needy.

“No.”

“Why’s that? Didja bite more than you could chew?”

She shook her head, “No, that was fine. I’m fine with that.” she took a breath, what did she need, really? She managed a whole day without notice, and she’d made good money while she was at it.

Could she really let go?

“There’s a body in my car. And it’s been in my car since about eight-thirty.” she confessed, and it was out. Someone knows now. Someone else knows now.

Jerry the damn night cook knows. She managed the whole hot day, and she just told someone.

It was just mean to leave a near stranger with the knowledge, “I won’t blame you if you call it in.”

“In fact you should call it in. I don’t have it in me to call the cops about this.” with that she hoped to relinquish all the guilt in knowing

It was a long moment before she got any response. 

Terribly long.

Long enough that she’d almost lost her composure. 

“I don’t know about all that.” Jerry said with a laugh, like a much younger santa claus, “I could deal with it for you, I know a place.”

And that was that.