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-ANONYMOUS-

We watched her, and it was enjoyable.

She wore a faded maroon apron, and from where we sat, from across the street, we watched her wipe table after table with a rag.

Under the soft pink lights inside the Diner, her eyes appeared exhausted, but the slight dance movements she consistently made with her waist in rhythm to the record being played on the radio made her look energetic and highly spirited.

We loved her.

Huddled over a spread-out daily inside the last booth was the only customer present, and as it seemed, per how engrossed he appeared to be in what it was that he was reading, he wasn't planning on exiting the diner anytime soon.

But we didn't care.

It was her we needed.

It was her we desired.

We could wait.

We could wait for all eternity—for her.

"Hi, Mr. Crowley," she greeted the old man inside the booth with a tired smile.

He raised his head and peered at her through his discolored reading glasses, half an inch thick. He smiled when he saw that it was only her because he loved her too.

Everyone loved her, but we loved her more.

We yearned for her.

We were obsessed with her.

"Sydney dear." He began folding his newspaper into two. "Is it time yet?"

"I'm afraid so Mr.Crowley," she replied ever so politely with a courteous nod.

"Ah! Is it just me or does time really fly by very swiftly nowadays?" He asked as he stashed the newspaper into his brown ragged looking briefcase.

She chuckled.

Picking up his briefcase with a wrinkled unstable hand, he stood up and stretched, his frail bones creaking and making her wince in concern.

"Goodnight Mr. Crowley. See you tomorrow," she said after him but the old man made no effort to acknowledge her goodnight wish because his hearing, just like his entire body, was weak and fading.

He stepped out, passed by the van in which we sat and progressed down the empty street.

A brunette emerged from behind the counter with a black leather bag swaying unsophisticatedly around her neck.

"Goodnight Sydney," she said drowsily with a yawn that somehow compelled Sydney into yawning too.

The brunette laughed and rubbed her temples. "I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

Sydney nodded and accompanied her outside the diner where she engaged her in a brief hug.

And then we saw her, clearer. Under the moon which shed its glorious wings of light over her face, she appeared twice more beautiful and we couldn't help but gape at her in contentment.

We couldn't wait to have her.

"Be safe," she said to the brunette and went back inside the diner. She disappeared behind the counter and re-appeared after a while with her cheap looking turquoise purse.

The lights inside the shop went off, and then she stepped out, readjusting the thin red scarf around her neck against the biting midnight air. She looked around and saw our van parked on the other side of the street and for a moment, we thought we saw her eyes meet ours.

We patiently watched her walk hastily to her small ash car parked a few meters away from the diner. After struggling to open it as always, the stubborn door finally budged and she entered.

Minutes passed as she started and re-started her car's engine, trying to set it into motion. We watched her huff in frustration and start the engine again.

Her car moved at last and started down the street, the gravels crunching under its worn tyres.

We followed closely behind.