THE BEAST ARRIVES, HUNGRY.
IS ALWAYS HUNGRY.
She bristled at the sound of the bell. Every time, that bell. It didn’t matter how she entered the diner, throwing the heavy door open or in a slow and shameless creep, someone always looked up at her at the sound of that bell. Patrons, waitresses, percolators, the insidious lemon chiffon cake. It gave her away even before the darkness of her ardor that spread around her in a nameless, beastly haze.That
waitress would be here. And if that
waitress was not, she would not be responsible for what happened to any of the others.
Except that she would, and everyone would know it. But that did not mean that she cared.
Heavy boots and heavy steps. Black tiles, white, in their zig-zag pattern like sigils or protection or possibly, probably, both. The floor was often the most reliable thing about a place, because walls could never quite be trusted. She had tested and torn many. And that was just this month. And just with her hands. The bell seemed to echo in every ugly edifice.
That waitress was here.
Booth. Her booth. It was clean again but for the place setting. With her eyes locked on the empty violet bench across from her, she pushed the pieces of etiquette away. The tile bloomed beneath approaching feet, bells in the tap of her heels. Bette tightened scarred fists."Can I get you anything, hon?" DEEP FRIED FETTUCINE ALFREDO ON A WHOLE WHEAT BUN WITH A SIDE OF HOT WAITRESS