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When the sun sets and the sky darkens, a diner in the distance opens its door to all of the night owls. On the roof is a flickering sign of red neon lights spelling out, "MIDNIGHT DINER". On one of the fogged windows on the brick building was a smaller neon sign that read out, "Fresh Coffee". A small group of people smoking are beside the entrance. On the dark blue double doors are small circular windows, giving any wanderers a peep into the diner. Below one of the windows is a no smoking inside sign. The business hours are posted under the other window.

Inside the diner is a dirt stained black and white checkered floor, and the walls are decorated with framed photos, clippings of news articles, and license plates. In the back is a single door leading to the only bathroom. It has a family bathroom sign with braille under it beside the door. On the other side of the rows of red vinyl booths is a jukebox and a dartboard. Under the dartboard is a small plastic container holding the red and green darts; about a few of the darts are missing.

Small ring stains of coffee decorated the marble counter in front of the open kitchen. A group of tired middle-aged men in reflective vests are seated on red vinyl stools with chrome lining, talking over coffee. There are only a couple of stools empty. The smell of strong fresh coffee and sizzling bacon lingered in the air. The sound of silverware clanging against the tables could be heard over a R&B song playing on the jukebox.

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A Travel-weary Hitchhiker walks in....

I walked in the door and nonchalantly took a seat at the counter. The waitress turned her head to acknowledge me as she was putting a pie back in the display. Her expression was that of mild inconvenienced annoyance as she made eye contact with me. I immediately looked down to the counter and turned the coffee cup sitting before me upright.

"You want fresh coffee too I suppose." she quipped as if she was reading my mind. A cup of black coffee was really all I was after. Glancing at the tar that was barely visible above the metal bottom of the glass Farmers Brothers urn, I could see it looked like it had been sitting on the heat for hours. It likely tasted more like Starbucks. I had debated asking the young lady if she would be willing to make a fresh pot, but I didn't want to ruffle her any more than it looked like she has been.

"Yeah, sure, if it isn't too much trouble. I'll have a slice of that pie as well before you put it away." It was a kindly request, and she complied quietly as she cut a piece and put it on a plate. It may have just been her natural demeanor, but she had the expression that she's had a hard day. As she set the pie in front of me, I noted her black name badge on the left lapel of her kitschy 1970s waitress uniform. Eve was quick to set a glass of ice-water before me before turning back to work her magic with the coffee brewer. I started to eat my pie, the aroma of fresh coffee mixed in with the feint jasmine of Eve's perfume that kept an aura around her from the ever-present greasy food smell of the place.

Eve came back by when I was a few bites into the pie, which though a bit old, tasted good, and filled my cup with the fresh coffee, and I couldn't help but fill my lungs with its rich aroma. "Aw thank you Eve. You're an angel." I waved off the little container of cream she had lifted up from behind the counter, and she immediately put it back.

"Been a long night?" I ask after I draw a sip ever so slightly from the edge of the cup.

"Longer than some. Not as long as others." she replied, which surprised me a little. She didn't appear to me to be one for smalltalk. I wasn't able to build on it though as the fresh coffee aroma had reached the tables by the windows and one guy started tapping his empty cup repeatedly with his spoon making it sound like a bell. Eve let out a slight sigh and took the fresh pot to walk down the counter to refill some other guy's cup before making rounds to the occupied tables. I only gave a glance when she emerged from behind the counter to check out the rest of her before making myself busy at finishing the pie.

Chrissy's body ached as she drove her pickup truck down the road. She can't even remember how long she has been driving for. Her eyes spotted the flickering letters spelling out, "MIDNIGHT DINER". It's been awhile since she has hot food. Chrissy eagerly parked her truck at the side of the road and grabbed a wad from the console before getting out of her truck and closing the door behind her.

Her nose scrunched up at the smell of disgusting cigarette smoke when she was near the diner's doors. Chrissy took a seat at the counter next to a lanky fellow who looked straight out of the 70s. She quickly turned her attention to the slice of pie that the stranger was eating. It looked mighty tasty and a bit old though, but pie is pie either way. As the waitress finished pouring coffee for the occupied booths, she went behind the counter. "You want coffee too?" Eve, according to her name badge, said with mild annoyance.

"Can you do, like, an iced coffee? If it's not a bother," Chrissy said. She decided against getting a slice of pie since it was already in the display. Eve paused and said, "Well I can just take our regular hot coffee and pour it over ice, is that okay?" Chrissy gave her a tired smile and spoke, "It is. Oh and I would like milk and sugar too." Eve gave Chrissy a glass of milk and a glass sugar pourer before setting down a mug of ice and pouring coffee over it.

"Thanks, sweetheart." Chrissy poured half of the milk and around three tablespoons of sugar into her sugar. She then stirred it with a spoon and took a sip once she was done stirring. Chrissy let out a satisfied sigh as a jolt of caffeine travelled to her brain. Hit the Road Jack by Ray Charles began to play on the jukebox in the corner. "Hit the road Jack. Don't you come back no more, no more, no more," she sang along under her breath.

As Talitha pushed open the diner's dark blue doors, she breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, her escape. Today had been a particularly dramatic day at school; Stacey and Claire, the mean girls who usually gave her trouble, had been especially harsh today. She glanced around the diner, taking in the familiar scenery. Not many stools left tonight, she thought, taking one of the few empty ones. I suppose that's normal though, she reasoned with herself. She noticed a few other people sitting close by, and Eve, the perpetually irritated waitress, was there at the counter as usual. "Coffee?" she asked grumpily, but Talitha shook her head. "Do you have sweet tea?" she asked in a soft voice. Eve sighed and said, "Give me a minute." She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a tall glass of tea which she plopped in front of Talitha. "There ya go, hon," she grumbled. Talitha took a grateful sip and thanked her profusely.

Chrissy's eyes went straight over the new arrivee with strawberry blonde hair at the counter. She went back to her iced coffee, taking more sips out of it. Eve took the pie out of the display to the waitress' annoyance.

If she was seeing correctly, there was at least three slices left. Now it was down to two slices when Eve served a slice to another patron. When Eve circled back to the counter, it was her turn to strike. "Hey, may I have a slice before you put it back please?" Chrissy kindly requested.

Eve quietly compiled and cut a slice before placing on a plate. "There ya go," she gumbled. "Thank you so much," Chrissy said as Eve walked away with a coffee pot. As the waitress was pouring some more rounds at the counter, Chrissy eagerly chowed on her slice of pie.

Talitha took another sip of her tea and noticed one of the other patrons eying her, a woman sitting at the counter. She gave her a little half-wave, but didn't say anything. Already the way the woman was looking at her was bothering her a bit, but she was trying not to show it.

It's a rainy night out, it's cold. A tender figure hushes through the streets, she was late, way too late for her usual return home.
Lizbeth doesn't like streets in town when it's dark, and above that, that irritating rain. She needs to find shelter somewhere, dry her fur and clothes before that last few miles until comfort home. The lean anthropomorphic doe notices the flickering sign saying 'Diner'.
It was that or getting cold before home, pneumonia was knocking on her lung's door.
She trembles the moment she opens those blue doors of the midnight diner, feeling that instantly all eyes turn towards her. Her, that means this rather tall and lean female deer, her linen clothing sticking to her wet fur, her ears like drooping down, her fluffy tail lying flat against her. She doesn't wear any underwear so she holds her arms in front of her, shivering and trembling from cold. Her hooves tick on the floor when she walks. She looks for a free place, luckily one with a warming radiator close. She tries not to look into any other's eyes, avoiding contact with anyone, neither the adventurer on the counter, nor that woman appreciating her coffee, hopefully nobody recognizes her here.
Eve the waitress like instinctively comes over with her coffee pot like glued to her fingers, "I suppose you want some coffee too, huh?". Lizbeth shakes a 'No' with her head, her soft voice asking for a tea instead "I'm sorry, I don't drink coffee, I prefer a good warm tea, some herbal tea, if ever you have? ". Lizbeth speaks quite low, shy, she isn't used to any restaurant or diner, she lives secluded in her forest normally.
Eve scratches the back of her head, the coffee inside her pot dangerously sloshing, almost slopping over Lizbeth's table. "Nah, I'll see, need to boil the water. But aren't ya that.. that... nah, whatever..." she walks away, other customers might need her. Eve mumbles something between her teeth and sets up water to boil, "Hey, hun, some, err..., mint tea?" she speaks her lips curling on one side as if she were disgusted. Lizbeth nods with a soft smile, repeating "Mint will do, thank you".
Lizbeth returns to herself, blowing on her intertwined fingers in front of her muzzle, yes, she's cold... Hopefully she doesn't get sick as she trembles like aspen leaves in the wind. The warm tea will be very welcoming.

I was probably still feeling the effects of those mushrooms I’d found along the side of the road yesterday, for I seemed to slip into the twilight zone for a bit. I was sure a woman came in and sat down on the stool next to me, and I heard her talk to Eve and ordered pie. But my coffee and pie seemed to take me away to some far off memory of old…

The sounds slid off into the distance even though they had never changed in actuality. They only took on a distant reverb inside my head. ‘Hit the Road Jack’ …. a Ray Charles classic, played on the juke box, and the wispy voice that sang along next to me resonated as I daydreamed of laying in a field of tall grass in the sun. The din of voices; the bell that chimed when the door opened and closed; and the changing scents that surrounded me had my head floating for what seemed like days. In reality it was only maybe five minutes or so.


I turned to compliment the woman on her singing voice, but there was nobody beside him. A partially-eaten slice of pie and an iced coffee that had maybe three sips out of it sat on the counter, but the woman had vanished. Did she ring the door’s bell one of the times as she did a runner and not pay?

I shrugged as I nodded slightly at Eve as she brought the pot of coffee around to pour a refill. I had seemed to have drank down my first cup, and there was only a couple crumbs on my plate.

“Thank you Eve. I’ll pay for what she ordered.” I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a couple of green bills and set it on the counter. “Keep the change.” Eve was quick to scoop it up along with the plates and glass. “You’re welcome.” Was Eve’s quick deadpan reply.

I picked up the coffee and sipped it. Whatever space-truck I had hitched a ride on a while ago while I sat here had my mind try and catch up on the reality. The reality was the woman I thought sat by me and sang had vanished like a cloud.


I looked further down the lunch counter where a blonde teenager sipped tea and looked relieved to be there as if the world outside the door was a hard slog. I lifted my coffee cup a little higher in salute to her before turning back while I took a sip. It seemed she nervously waved a little, but then retreated to her tea when she saw me, like I wasn’t the person she waved at. Did she also see the woman that disappeared? Her expression seem like it.

I thought briefly about my days in high school. It was a long time ago, and really another lifetime. I was clearly in what the popular jock/cheerleader social director students called ‘the brains’ as I studied and got A’s and had near perfect attendance… at least that was what the record showed in the attendance office. I did have some acquaintances in the ‘heads’ and I helped a few out with their essays to help get them a C or D grade in needed classes in exchange for some good smoke. I wonder what high school was like these days…


My coffee cup drained and my curiosity was again piqued with Eve making mint tea. The aroma wafted from the freshly poured cup and I watched as she brought it to a booth table near the heating vent. If I had looked when the… woman came in, then she had blended into whatever vision I was having at the time. It was just now that I felt I was looking at legend.

The feeling that I had seen, and maybe even met, the woman who sat there at one point. I sort of remembered fragments of when I was traversing the Muscogee Nation in Oklahoma. I had set camp in a patch of woods when a shotgun blast went off and the tree branches above my head scatters as bits fell around me. Out of the underbrush came a somewhat overweight Native American man with the gun. After explaining I was only wanting to stay the night and would move on in the morning, ‘Brownie’… that was what he said his name was… decided to stay a while and helped me get a fire going. We shared smoke, and he told me of a legend… the Legend of Deer Lady.

He told of the 20th century legend of the Muscogee of a woman … a girl at the time, who was taken away to boarding school. She disappeared; lost to the records like so many others; but it was said over the decades that she was not dead. She lurked the woods as a deer, and at times it was said she took human form with deer like features and would walk upright. She always wore high black boots that clicked like hooves on the pavement, for her hind feet would not change.

Was this Deer Lady of the Muscogee legend? I could not tell. With Eve coming by to refill my cup, I thanked her before I got up and carried it with me to the booth.

“Would you like company?” I asked, looking to her eyes. “Or do you prefer to dine alone?” I added before she could answer.

Slowly some heat spreads again through this lost doe. Rain and cold left outside, she stays a bit of time longer in this open Diner. Eve brings her the demanded tea with a professional cold smile. Lizbeth doesn't mind her being so 'distant', it's surely not easy for her to work at such hour. Maybe she's just insomniac, who will ever know.
That tea comes right on cue, for someone religious it would be from heaven sent. It smells delicious. The doe lets the steam embrace her muzzle, her nostrils flare and the odor invades her nose, warming, comforting. A soft sigh makes the vapor twirl and dance around her mouth. Her lips seemingly curling into her usual soft smile.
She doesn't notice this man approaching her table, his intentions kind but surprising for a doe.
Lizbeth looks with great surprise in her eyes to him, obviously a man, she almost didn't hear his question, her actual state befogged her alertness.
- Who is he, what does he want from me? -
"Oh, please excuse me, I wasn't expecting to be accosted by somebody. I... I don't mind company..." she says a bit confused but in a friendly way. Even if it wasn't her intention to shelter here and get to know someone new. Anyway she couldn't flee, trapped between that man and the only way out, the nearest window. Lizbeth is very warily towards strangers, especially human, but she has learned to trust herself and not always hide from everything. Until now she didn't sense any will to harm in this man.

The bell over the door gave a soft jingle as it opened, just enough to cut through the low murmur of conversation and the clatter of silverware. A gust of damp night air followed the man inside, curling briefly around his boots before the door shut again with a hollow thud. He didn’t rush—there was no urgency in his movements, no sharpness to mark him as anything unusual. He stepped in like someone who had done so a thousand times before, quiet, deliberate, but entirely unremarkable.

The hood of his dark, weathered jacket was drawn up, shadowing much of his face, though a few strands of long, pale hair had slipped loose near his jawline. A golden-furred tail, mostly concealed beneath the fall of his coat, twitched once at his heel and then stilled. He paused just inside, pale eyes flicking briefly around the diner, taking stock of the room and the people inside, before settling on the counter.

The smell of coffee—bitter, earthy, over-brewed—met him first, followed by bacon and something fried that clung to the air like memory. For a fraction of a second, he froze, not from discomfort but from the weight of familiarity. Diners like this existed everywhere, in every age and city. This one simply happened to be open when he needed it.

He made his way to the far end of the counter, boots whispering against the scuffed checkerboard floor. He didn’t look at anyone directly, though he had seen them all—catalogued posture, tone, and tension without conscious thought. A habit he couldn’t unlearn.

Sliding onto one of the empty stools, he didn’t take off his hood, only reached up with gloved hands to nudge it back slightly so the waitress would see his face enough to know he wasn’t looking to loiter without ordering. His expression was neutral, bordering on tired, but his eyes were sharp, always sharp, catching reflections in the chrome edge of the counter.

There was a laminated menu nearby, corners peeling, smeared faintly with coffee stains. He didn’t bother reading it. Diners didn’t change their food, only their prices. His hand rested near the counter but not on it, a quiet presence rather than a demand for attention.

When a waitress's passing glance eventually landed on him, he gave a simple nod—small, polite, and nonintrusive. His voice, when it came, was low and quiet, just enough to carry:

“Coffee. Black. Whatever’s quickest.” He was soft-spoken, his voice deep and rough-hewn, carrying the weight of long winters and hard-won battles, colored by a distinct Scandinavian accent.

No commentary, no small talk. He wasn’t here to linger, at least not loudly. Just warmth, caffeine, and a place to sit where no one asked questions. He adjusted his seating slightly, leaning one elbow on the counter but keeping his back angled subtly toward the room—a predator’s instinct, though it manifested only as quiet posture.

His gaze moved briefly to the window, watching the neon flicker its faint red glow over the glass, and then down to the reflection in the dark liquid the waitress soon placed in front of him. He didn’t reach for it immediately, just let the steam curl up toward his face as his shoulders eased fractionally, tension unwinding by degrees in the stillness of the diner.

To anyone watching, he was just another night traveler passing through—a tired man and his coffee, quiet enough to be forgotten as soon as they looked away. And that suited him just fine.