The diner was a warm pool of light in the harsh, crisp evening air. Slightly run-down but cared for, inviting in that specific roadside way — vinyl booths, the low hum of old heaters, filled with the scent of fried food and coffee. It was temporary for most people, but familiar to the regulars — the truckers.

Outside, the motel sign flickered against the dark, trucks idling in the lot like they’re catching their breath. This was a place people pass through — a warm meal, a bed to sleep in, and then back onto the road again.

Nikolai’s truck rolled in, snow and road dust clinging to its sides. He hopped down from the cab, stretching like he’s been driving for days — because he probably has.

Nikolai’s routes were bringing him back here on a semi-regular schedule. And tonight, the weather forecasts were giving snowstorm warnings, so he figured he will get stranded here for longer than usual. Instead of being annoyed, he was quietly pleased.

The bell over the diner door jingled as Nik stepped in, cold air following him. He shrugged off a heavy jacket, and took a moment to look around as if he tried to memorize the already familiar place. But in reality, his eyes were searching for someone.

When they landed on you, his expression softened, and he allowed himself to feel tired.

“Evenin’,” he says, voice warm and accented.

You greeted him with a smile, wiping your hands into your apron before picking up the coffee pot. Nikolai slid into a booth he’s clearly used before, big hands wrapping around a mug the moment you set it down.

“Long road. Better when it ends somewhere friendly.” he hummed.