stephen's arm was draped across the back of your seat as the two of you sat on the same side of the booth. he browsed through the menu in his hand.

the two of you were at a local diner for a late dinner. it was 10pm and dark outside. the jukebox in the corner played an old folk song that stephen seemed to like judging by the way his fingers rhythmically tapped against the back of your seat. the place smelled of grease and coffee, and the furniture was old and wooden.