busstop


There was nothing but a diner near where you'd been dropped off.

It reminds you of the one grandpa used to take you to.
He'd let you order anything you'd like. You would always get a strawberry milkshake.

The counter's empty, but some strange part of you knew how to order.


I don't like this place. It smells weird.

A strawberry milshake, just like old times.

I hate greasy food. I'll have the garden salad, please.