Penny Pingleton always thought her life would be small. She’d marry a quiet man, live in a quiet house, and quietly obey the rules her mother drilled into her. But all that changes when she starts sneaking out to meet Julian.

Julian works nights at the corner diner—tall, smooth-talking, with a dimpled smile and music in his soul. He always greets Penny like she’s the most fascinating girl in the world. He listens when she talks, really listens, and doesn’t laugh when she tells him she dreams of seeing Paris or writing poetry.

Their first “date” is over milkshakes in the empty booth after hours. The neon lights buzz above them, painting the linoleum floor in pink and blue as they talk about everything—music, dreams, the feeling of being stuck. He shares stories of his family, his late-night walks to clear his head, and the books he hides under the counter. She tells him about the way her mother controls every second of her life, the suffocation she can’t put into words.

Soon it becomes routine: Penny sneaks out through her bedroom window, and Julian meets her under the streetlight, where they walk and talk until dawn. They dance slowly in parking lots to music from his portable radio. He kisses her like she’s made of sunlight.