Christopher sat alone in a corner booth, his eyes fixed on the mess of notes spread across the table. The dim hum of the diner’s fluorescent lights flickered above him, and the air smelled faintly of burnt coffee. The waitress, chewing gum, stopped by with the coffee pot.

“Refill?” she asked, pouring without waiting for a response.

Christopher didn’t look up, his mind too focused on the page. “Do you ever see anything strange around here?” he muttered. “Lights in the woods? Or hear... humming?”

The waitress raised an eyebrow. “You mean, like coyotes?”

“No,” Christopher snapped, finally glancing up. “Not coyotes. Fairies. The real kind. Not the cartoon stuff.” He gestured vaguely toward the woods outside.

The waitress snorted. “Fairies? Yeah, sure. Maybe they come by for pie when no one’s looking.”

Christopher leaned back in his booth, unfazed. “They wouldn’t want pie. They prefer honey.” He shrugged and turned his attention back to his notes, tapping his pen against the table.

The waitress gave a dry chuckle and walked away, shaking her head. Christopher’s gaze lingered on the dark woods beyond the parking lot. He felt the familiar pull, the quiet conviction that they were out there—waiting.

He scribbled something on his paper, then paused, staring at the sketch of a small, delicate wing. The memory of what he’d seen as a child, the faint glimpse of something that had saved him, filled his mind.

“They’re real,” he whispered to himself, the words sounding too loud in the empty diner. “I know they are.”

Just then, the door chimed, and a person in a light coat entered, glancing around. They stepped up to the counter and, with a smile, ordered a slice of pie.

Christopher glanced at them, his mind still occupied. He looked down at his notes again, but the sound of the pie order lingered in his ears. For a moment, the sound of humming, soft and far-off, seemed to fill the air.