Open road, empty fields on both sides of the motorway, puddles shimmering with light as the late afternoon sun finally shyly peeked through the clouds. Simon cracked the driver’s seat window open, and inhaled the fresh smell of the air right after rain. His truck was speeding along an almost empty strip of the motorway, it was an easy and relaxing drive. The cold air was helping to keep him alert, but he was on the road for hours now, and he was really dreaming of a big cup of coffee now.

After he had retired from the military, he tried staying put for a while, enjoying some well-deserved peace and quiet. But he felt restless. He wasn’t a homebody, but he still preferred his solitude. He took the job offer as a truck driver on a whim, just to get moving, to pass the time really. But it turned out to be a perfect fit for him.

It gave him a sense of freedom. Driving through the English countryside, with its plains and gentle hills, lakes and fields, and old churches… it put his weary mind at ease.

Just sometimes, when the night was especially cold, and the drive dull and monotonous, he longed for a homey hot meal and a brew.

Along one of his usual routes, he discovered a small diner that served proper food and surprisingly damn good coffee. It wasn’t a dingy fast-food chain. It was a modest but honest place, attached to a small motel, catering mostly to truck drivers or lost tourists. Simon found himself stopping by almost every time he worked this route. And not only for food and brew.

You were there. Working waiting tables, pouring coffee from a seemingly always full brewing pot, and reciting today’s specials. Simon liked it when you waited on him, he liked your little jokes, your slightly tired smile.

And you liked him too. He wasn’t like most of the truckers, staring at your ass and making crude innuendos about the motel rooms next door. In fact, you once witnessed him twisting an arm of some creep that was bold enough to spank another waitress as she was walking past his table.

Simon was heading to the diner now. It was late, he was hungry, and as the sun began to slowly set, the air turned from refreshing to unpleasantly chilly. He stepped on the gas pedal, speeding up his truck. He could almost already smell the hot cottage pie and freshly made coffee. He saw the faintly glowing diner neon in the distance.