Emil sits, cross-legged, on the booth seat of the old diner. The only noises around are the Jukebox looping old songs, the sound of the TV playing the news, the faint conversation between the two waitresses.

Emil finds it comforting here. It’s very much indicative of the small-town Massachusetts diner near where he grew up. Even if it’s been almost 70 years since he was a teen, he’s still stuck in that body, so what’s so bad about indulging in nostalgia from time to time?

Emil sighs to himself and continues to idly chip away at the crossword puzzle on the newspaper in front of him. His coffee sat untouched on the table, because he needed to buy something to stay in the booth, but it’s not like he could drink it.

Oh, well…