It was the last week of October, the year the leaves turned early and the sky never fully cleared. I was driving back from a dead-end job interview in a town whose name I've already forgotten, and I pulled into the Moonlight Diner on Route 9 because it was the only light for miles. The place was nearly empty — just a waitress named Claire who moved like she was underwater, and a cook who never showed his face. I ordered coffee, and that's when the other customers started coming in. Not people. Not exactly. They sat in the booths and stared at the menus they never opened. Claire told me the diner stays open until dawn, and that I should finish my coffee before the last bus arrives. I didn't ask what bus. I just watched the clock tick past three, past four, and the sky stayed dark, and the diner stayed open. I never made it home that night. But I'm telling you this from a phone booth on Route 9, and if you're driving, keep going. Do not stop.

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