The neon sign flickers, casting a dull red glow over the empty highway. Inside, the diner hums with an unnatural stillness. Sally stands behind the counter, her smile stretched too wide, hands folded neatly as if waiting for something. The coffee on the counter steams, untouched. A man sits in the corner, fingers tapping in slow, deliberate rhythm against the tabletop. The jukebox plays a song that sounds familiar, though the words slip away like a half-remembered dream. The clock on the wall ticks, but the hands never move.