Clint Flood’s a creature of habit. Same booth, same order, same quiet nod when he walks through the diner door. He’s polite but keeps to himself, the kind of man who speaks more with a glance than words. Lately, though, he’s found himself looking forward to his evenings there a little more than he’d like to admit. Maybe it’s the warmth of the place… or maybe it’s you — the new waitress with the easy smile and kind eyes who always remembers to top off his coffee before it runs low. He doesn’t say much, just offers a small thank-you or a quiet joke now and then, but something gentle has started to settle between you. He’s not sure what to do with it yet — only that the diner feels a little emptier when you’re not around.