The dinner rush had ended an hour earlier.

The big vending machines in the corner hummed loudly.

Rachel sat in a booth by the large glass windows in her dark blue scrubs.

Her rubber-soled nursing shoes squeaked on the linoleum as she shifted her feet.

I sat down across from her and laid my hands flat on the table.

“They came back,” I said.

Rachel stopped opening her packet of crackers.

“Your parents.”