I racked my mind for answers. Anything.

I had heard my share of gossip, but not much about wildfires or anything of that sort. Something in the news about the capital, though, had grabbed my attention a while back. I had caught a glimpse of an old newspaper some time ago while running an errand and what did it say? Something about... the flame keeper. That's where I saw it.

There was something else as well. Star power. No, spark power. That was it. The paper had reported spark power overtaking hydro as the capital's new energy source, but nothing about the flame keeper being in 'danger' or whatever nonsense the stranger was talking about. But then again, I never had caught up on the news often...

I suppose I could ask Benjamin tomorrow when we have off. Or Alice, I mused. They would know something about the wildfires and whatever was happening in the capital.

I stared out the window, patiently—though my patience was waning—waiting for any sign of a customer. Sunlight lazily spilled into the room, gently warming my skin. I closed my eyes, pretending that I was a cat, basking in the sun all day, free of any worries and annoying customers. Nobody was coming here because of him.

Crash! The front door forcefully opened, and I jerked up, my eyelids springing open. A weary traveling group staggered in, and though the rain had stopped over an hour ago, they still left a trail of water on the floorboards.

Finally, I thought—customers at last.

The big, burly man, who seemed like the leader of the group, spoke up. "We fellas have been traveling for a mighty long time and stumbled across this restaurant." His dark eyes met mine and lingered there for a while. "The Cozy Corner, if I'm not mistaken."

I gave a small nod, averting my eyes from his unnerving gaze.

"You wouldn't mind us staying for a bit, eh?" A dangerous smile tugged at his lips, a steely glint in his eyes. I shuddered, but quickly regained my composure. They're just customers, I told myself. And besides, if they were bandits, they would've killed me already.

"You can sit at the rightmost table. The menus will be out momentarily." I gestured towards the table and the ragged group trudged over.

The big, burly man plopped down on the chair ten sizes too small for him and let out a huff. The other two, a young man who seemed only a few years older than me, and a slim woman with a bow slung across her back, sat down across from him.

I walked back to my desk and reached out to grab three menus from a wobbly stack but the man beat me to it.

"That won't be necessary," he said, pushing my hand aside. "We like to do things on our own."

He smirked at my dumbfounded reaction before heading back to the table. The other two snatched the menus out of the air as he sent them flying.

I sat down at my desk and fidgeted with a pencil, spinning it around on my fingertips. I got five or so minutes to kill, I thought when a voice suddenly interrupted me.

"Hey, waiter!" I looked up frantically from my desk. Were they done already? "We're ready to order."

I scrambled up from my chair and nearly tripped on the desk leg on my way to the table. The man guffawed, throwing his head back wildly. "What a klutz! I can hardly believe you're a waiter."

My cheeks grew hot, almost as hot as my hands yesterday, and I said nothing.

"So bread and butter for me, a tomato soup for Hank, and... what did you want, Aurora?"

"I suppose I'll go for the fruit salad." She replied, staring into the menu.

Hank was due for a tomato soup, Aurora wanted a fruit salad, and...

"What was your name?" I asked the man. "I need to write down your names and orders."

The man turned towards me slowly, eyeing me suspiciously, as if he were afraid to give his name.

"Markus," he grunted. "But I prefer Mark, if you will."

I nodded, scribbling his name and order down on a notepad. "Alright, your food will be ready in about twenty minutes."

"And I'll need those back." I extended my hand out, reaching for the menus, but Hank only gave me a strange look. Aurora, engrossed in the menu, didn't bother to look up.

I smiled nervously, "The menus. I need them back."

"Why can't we keep them?" Hank had a distinct accent, similar to Alice. He seemed to stifle a laugh as he spun the menus around on his finger. "Y'all already have—"

Hank grunted and rubbed his side, shooting a glare at Mark. "Fine. Have yer menus back." There was an uncanny twinkle in his eye. "If you can catch them."

If I can catch them? Unfortunately, I didn't have to ponder much longer when the menus became airborne, with one target in mind. Me. I leaped to the side, sending the notepad flying out of my hand, as the menus whizzed over my head and crinkled the paper-thin walls.

I looked back at Hank, a wide smile plastered on his greasy face, and Markus, bent over, slapping his knee, seemed like he was about to die as his laughter turned to wheezing. Aurora just stared angrily at Hank, who looked at me in amusement.

"You should've seen yerself, mate. Never seen a more priceless expression." I flushed in embarrassment and hastily gathered the menus off the ground.

I kept a straight face as I strode to the kitchen, but inside, a mixture of happiness and frustration was battling. They were annoying, but nonetheless customers, our first few today as well.

I poked my head into the kitchen. The crew was busy preparing food; Dave always told us that if the food didn't get eaten, it was ours. It did make orders faster if the food was, to some extent, prepared already.

"Guys, halt the prep. We got customers." A few of the staff looked up, their eyes brightening at the good news. Though they wore a sullen look, the others were equally relieved as they stopped to listen.

"I heard." I turned, Dave's dark brown eyes boring into me. "What's the order?"

"Uh..." I looked down into my hands, where the notepad should have been. Shoot. "I believe they wanted bread and butter, tomato soup, and... a salad."

"Noted," Dave said as the rest of the crew scrambled to prepare the order.

I made my way out of the kitchen and walked towards the table where the three were chatting.

"What do you need?" Mark asked gruffly. They had ceased their conversation when I neared them.

"I just need to make sure I got the orders right," I replied. "Bread and butter, tomato soup, and a salad, right?"

"A fruit salad." Aurora corrected. I froze, and I must have turned so pale that Aurora looked at me strangely for the first time.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing. I'll be right back." I laughed nervously and sprinted to the bathroom, where I would have some privacy. How did I forget? I chided myself. Ever since we sold some of our belongings, fruit was seldom bought, as money wasn't coming in at the usual rates.

One pound of fruit could buy us an entire loaf of bread, so Dave had asked me to revise the menus, which must have slipped my mind. Telling Dave would be no use, and it would just get me a good scolding.

I sighed and stepped out of the bathroom, heading towards the table again.

"So... we unfortunately don't have any fruit in stock, so we are preparing a regular salad." I started, beads of sweat trickling down my brow. I paused for a bit before I thought to add, "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Then why do you have it on the menu?" Mark's eyes seemed to shoot daggers at me as he leaned forward, getting dangerously close to me.

"I-I forgot to remove it." I stammered, backing up a few steps. Mark stood up abruptly, his eyes still trained on me, and stepped towards me.

"No. You have fruit." Each syllable cut through my head like a knife does to butter. "What kind of restaurant doesn't have fruit?!"

"One that's dirt poor," I muttered under my breath.

"What did you say?" Mark's voice rose with each word, his fists clenched, and his face a massive tomato. "If you don't get us fruit, I'll rip out your intestines and get them myself!"

Aurora stood up and seized Mark, who otherwise would have landed a punch squarely on my head. "Markus! C'mon, just sit down."

With a rough motion, Mark shook off Aurora forcefully, sending her crashing into the table. "Get your hands off me. I'm trying to help you."

Just then, the kitchen door swung open, and Dave stepped out, ladle still in his hand. "What's going on out here?"

Mark spun around and glared at Dave, who returned the look. "This waiter here refused to give Aurora a fruit salad and said you don't have a single piece of fruit in stock. It's not like we're not paying money."

Dave furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "Fruit salad? That's not on the menu..."

Snatching a menu from off my desk, Mark marched up to Dave and shoved it in his face. "Not on the menu, huh? Explain this then."

A tingle. Frick. I didn't have to look to know my hands were burning. Deep breaths, I told myself as I shut my eyes forcefully, wishing that this was just a dream. No, this wasn't a dream—it was a nightmare. I... I had to do it.

The warmth receded from my hands as I mustered the little courage I had and told Mark, as well as Dave, that it was my fault. All of it. Dave shook his head, irritated, and let out a long sigh.

Mark just threw his head back and laughed. "You really don't have fruit... Why didn't you say so? I thought you all just wanted the fruit for yourself."

"I..." I tried to explain but ended up chuckling along with Mark, who slapped me on the back.

"Oh man, you got me good. Didn't think you fellas actually didn't have a single piece of fruit." He wiped a tear from his eye. "Tragic. Back in the capital, you could get all the fruit you wanted..." He trailed off, a rueful smile on his face.

He turned to Dave. "Hey, do you have any spare rooms for us to stay in for tonight? The Traveler's Inn was filled to the brim with people. Doubt they had any rooms left."

"Oh, yes. That'll be one silver and five coppers, or fifteen coppers, if you will; lunch and dinner included. Wallace can show you the way later." Dave replied ecstatically; it was the first time people were staying at the restaurant. "But first, have some lunch. You're fine with a regular salad, right?"

"Yeah," Aurora replied. "Though fruit salad is much more appetizing."

"You can say that again," Dave said as he walked back into the kitchen, yelling at the staff who had stopped working to observe the scene. "Wallace, the food is ready by the way."

I followed him into the kitchen, handing Dave the coppers Mark had given me, and grabbed the plates, carefully balancing them in my hands so as not to drop or mix them.

"Bread and butter, tomato soup, and a regular salad." I slid the plates onto the table where the three were sitting.

Mark snatched the bread off his plate and sloppily spread the butter with a knife. Folding the bread, he stuffed it into his mouth savagely, splattering butter and scattering crumbs everywhere. I looked over to his left; tilting his head back, Hank eagerly slurped down his soup, not bothering to touch the spoon beside him. Bits of tomato clung to his mustache when he set the plate down, finished with his meal.

"Gotta say, that tomato soup was something," Hank remarked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

I couldn't help but notice a large piece of tomato wedged right in the middle of his mustache. "You missed a spot." I quipped.

Hank rubbed his chin, finding nothing, and went over his entire face without finding the tomato. Mark had stopped eating and, with a mouth full, started laughing and nearly lost his lunch.

Hank was a mixture of frustration and annoyance. He shot Mark a dirty look, scrunching up his face so that piece of tomato almost went up his nose. "There it is! Hiding in my mustache..."

He picked it out and flung it at Mark who shrieked, the piece of tomato landing on his dark, disheveled. "Have fun with the tomato." Hank chuckled.

Now it was Mark's turn to be laughed at as he searched for the piece of tomato in vain.

"You really can't get enough of these two," Aurora said between bites of her salad. "Like two peas in a pod, as they say."

"Yep." I looked at her salad, which she was eating but certainly not enjoying as much as Mark and Hank did. "Hey, sorry about the mix-up with the salads... Is there perhaps any way I can make it up to you?"

She chewed thoughtfully on a piece of lettuce. "Well, we are staying here for the night. That's a huge favor in itself."

I probably didn't seem convinced enough so she cast me an understanding glance, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. "It's fine. The salad, I mean. Though you gotta love fruit."

"Yeah," I murmured. I had eaten fruit once, a mango or so I'm told. I could still taste the sweet, tangy flavor on the tip of my tongue, and I had always longed for more.

The restaurant grew silent as we pondered on whatever we thought of. I glanced up at the clock above the front door. One o'clock. Finally, lunch for us. "I'll be right back. Just grabbing some lunch." I said, breaking the silence.

"Grab another piece of bread and a stick of butter for me, alright?" Mark asked.

"Yeah—"

"Two more bowls of tomato soup for me!" Hank interjected.

"So you can find more tomatoes in your mustache?" I couldn't help but notice that there was still a smudge of red still left in his mustache.

He flushed in embarrassment, his cheeks turning into a shade of bright red. Almost as if his head was just a large tomato. "Oh, shut up."