ANDY
A waitress laughed with a group of construction workers near the counter while two older men argued about sports at the table beside them. Somewhere behind me, a little boy tried to convince his mother he needed another piece of bacon, and the entire diner carried on around me with the comfortable rhythm of people who had known one another for years.
I looked around again.
Some of the patrons were familiar. I remembered their faces, even if I couldn't always remember their names, and there were others who probably knew exactly who I was even though I didn't recognize them at all.
Mostly, though, I was simply a stranger sitting in the far corner of the diner, eating a delicious breakfast while everyone else's lives continued around me.
It was strange to be home and still feel like
