I reached for the cord of the heavy canvas blinds and pulled them completely shut.

The vinyl booth in the corner of the Miller Road Diner was cracked down the middle, showing yellow foam that had turned grey from years of dust.

My mother sat opposite me, her beige trench coat buttoned to her throat despite the dry heat coming from the radiator under the window.

She did not touch the heavy white mug of black coffee the waitress had set down five minutes ago.

Instead, her small hands remained flat on the green laminate table.