Parka dark, faux fur lined hood pulled over her head, black hair spilling out.
Waiting at 5 am, at IHOP, to meet her best friend who says he’s in love.
The chill of a dark and wet October morning, and the colors you can’t see in sprawl.
The pop hits playing from the 90s, her parents youth, and the too bright light.
She waits, unsure and unsettled, if this is all real, or right, or if he’ll be true.
She once fell asleep on his shoulder, in the backseat of Eli’s car, coming home from a show.
She remembered it sweetly. She felt so warm and content. Yet, something itches in her brain.
5 am, and the music is second hand sentiments, and the soda is sickly sweet.
5 am, and she wants to believe he is true, but this town is cold; you don’t meet good people here.
No more soda, or pancakes, or staying for him. She settles the check, walks home in the dark.