Celia
I help the elderly woman out of the booth, the two of us laughing with each other about a story she is telling to me.
When she was a teenager, she had followed a boy around town with the hopes that he would notice her and would want to go out on a date. Instead, he called the cops on her and she had to awkwardly explain that she just had a crush on him and was trying to talk.
“Oh, it was embarrassing!” she laughs as we leave the diner.
I close the door behind us and guide her towards one of the benches outside. We sit down and listen to the waves crash against the shoreline. She moves her purse onto her lap as our laughs quiet down.
Donna reaches inside and pulls out a small wad of cash. She plucks a few of the bills and hands it to me with a small and nurturing smile on her fac
