I pushed open the door to Jona's Diner and stepped inside. The warm scent of grilled meat, butter, and herbs immediately washed over me.
It was a welcome change from the dry, dusty air of the desert. The place was far larger than I expected. The lobby alone had a polished wooden floor, dim golden lighting, and a wide staircase curling upward to the upper levels.
My eyes swept across the space. Families gathered around tables, couples whispered to each other in booths, and lone travelers sat at the bar nursing drinks. Everyone seemed relaxed—like they had nothing to fear.
A waitress approached, and I noticed her immediately.
She was beautiful, with shoulder-length dark red hair tied in a loose bun and eyes the color of amber. Her uniform was neatly pressed, and she moved with the kind of calm confidence that only came from doing something a thousand times.
"Good evening, sir," she said, offering a polite smile. "Table for one?"
