The Memoir of Irene Parsons

1:20 AM. November 17th. Terra's Diner.
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She folded up the roadmap she was reading very particularly, and placed it in her dark green bag. The people sitting around her eyed her suspiciously. She looked shady.

The couple in the booth across from her spoke in hushed tones, either to keep their conversation secret, or for that tender effect that lovers often crave. It disgusted her and fascinated her in a whirl of intense emotion. “Don‘t you have somewhere better to be? Nobody gives a shit if you‘re in love or not.” She thought with bitterness.

An elderly woman in a uniform apron slipped a cup of coffee quietly on her table. Her nametag read "Velma". The waitress was more than likely quite pretty in her prime. Even now, the only thing betraying her age was the wrinkles that creased her face. “Anything else, miss?”

She smiled and shook her head in polite decline. She liked Velma, maybe because she’d seen her almost every night. She didn’t know why, but she always was attracted to this particular place most nights. Some nights there were another four or five people for a midnight coffee, or sometimes travelers on their way to something greater than this town. But sometimes, there was nobody at all. She enjoyed those nights the most.

She took some sips at her coffee and contemplated what to do next. Opening her maps again, she buried herself in calculated daydreams. She knew she could go anywhere she dreamed, but would never be happy. Someone like herself had a deep-rooted hatred of being tied down to any one place. She had to make a route to follow constantly just to stay occupied.

Six weeks ago, she lived in a small Ohio town. Tonight, she dined in Erie, Pennsylvania. It wasn’t terrible. Just lonely.

The couple stood up, bumping the table and making an intolerable squeal as it skid across the floor. She grimaced, but never looked up from her maps. She began to wonder if she could develop a case of twitches simply by being irritated.

“Harrisburg…” Her green eyes lifted to the ceiling in deep thought. She dissected her red ink pen absentmindedly as she made her plan. Erie to Harrisburg, maybe to Philadelphia. Maybe...

The bell over the door rang, completely interrupting her. She contemplated stabbing the intruder in the eye with her pen for the sake of silence, but again, never looked up. She didn’t see the person, but felt the wind from the speed of their step when he walked by her. The bathroom door slammed.

She gathered her one dollar bill from her pocket and placed it neatly under her nearly full cup to pay for the coffee. After little debate, she left a twenty dollar bill also under the cup for Velma.

Gathering her bag and her jacket, she sadly walked toward the door into the dead of night. Another night out, looking for nothing.

“Miss?” She heard Velma croak. Velma extended her hand towards her table. “You take that money back. What’s an old lady like me need twenties for? What’s your name, hun?”

The glow from the neon light in the window reflected off of Velma’s pale skin in an eerily beautifully way. The stranger that had interrupted her planning returned to the restaurant and took a seat in a booth near where she was sitting.

“Well, I guess you can call me Irene. Irene Parsons. Or whatever, I mean I don’t really care wha-”

“Oh, what a pretty name! My sister’s name was Irene!”

Irene realized that Velma was no longer thinking of the money on the table and took the opportunity to make her escape.

“Thank ya… I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then.” Irene nodded in finality, smiled, and turned for the door. “Good night Irene, I’ll be waiting!” said Velma, watching her new favorite customer leave the diner.

“Night.” said the stranger in the other booth.