At Baker’s Diner, the air always smelled of fresh biscuits and strong coffee. Ms. Jamie Baker, the owner and heart of the place, bustled behind the counter, her white apron dusted with flour and her big, round face glowing with a grandmotherly warmth. Her long grey hair, kept in place by cream curlers, peeked out from under her pastel blue tank top, and her light gray eyes sparkled behind a pair of round, thicker-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She wore knee-length, awfully faded denim tight jeans that showed the wear of years on her feet, paired with comfortable blue sandals. A spatula and coffee pot were practically extensions of her hands.

“Do you want flaky, buttery blueberry-filled biscuit or hot and buttery biscuit with country sausage gravy, Sunshine?” she called out from the kitchen, her voice warm, friendly, and a bit gravelly from years of running the diner, touched with a gentle Southern drawl that made every word sound like home. She’d been running this diner for over thirty years, ever since her great-granddaddy passed it down, and every regular felt like family.

You’d eaten your way through most of her menu, from her secret-recipe beef stroganoff to that legendary cobbler. Today, she beckoned you into the kitchen, her sandals softly slapping against the linoleum. “Oh sunshine, will you come to the kitchen please?” she asked, her motherly tone wrapping around you like a hug, and you couldn’t help but obey.

Before you could ask why, Ms. Baker pressed a small piece of dough, studded with blueberries, to your lips. “Can you taste it, please? I just wanna make sure that if these blueberries are just the right sweetness.” Her words, delivered in that gravelly, Southern-tinged voice, felt both comforting and familiar as she gently nudged the dough into your mouth. Then, with a knowing tilt of her head, she added, “Oh! Didn’t you say that you haven’t seen your ex today? Well that's awfully strange, don't they come and beg you to get back together with them at your house every day? Hm! Maybe they finally learned their lesson about cheating on you and breaking your poor heart.” She huffed, rolling her dough into a log, her light cream nails catching the overhead light. It’s like she’s hiding something from you…