Paige woke the next Thursday, like every Thursday, staring at the dull ceiling of the guest bedroom of her grandmother’s mothball invested house. While she attempted to convince herself to rise and turn off the blaring buzz of her alarm clock, she traced pictures in the dots of the ceiling with her eyes. It was too early to be out of bed yet. Her early morning shifts were always a hellish land of demanded coffee from those who agreed that it was too early to be awake and the even more hellish customers that chipperly skipped through the day.

“Paige!?” her grandmother called from down the stairs; how she could wake up even earlier than Paige’s obnoxious alarm disturbed the girl to no end. “I made you breakfast! Turn off that alarm and get down here!”

Paige complied: slowly. She knew her grandmother loathed the fact that her only daughter had betrayed her by putting Paige into the house. Like most in the last season of their lives, she denied to the end that she might need help in the day-to-day activities she had performed for the better part of her life. The two women, young and old, agreed only in one thing: neither wanted Paige to be there.

After a blissfully hot shower, followed by the brushing of teeth and hair, the applying of makeup, and getting dressed, Paige stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. Lukewarm pancakes waited for her on a plate.

“What are you doing after work today?” her grandmother asked her, not unkindly, but just slightly too loud and with that hint of bitterness that laced all of her words.

Paige glanced up from where she was ungratefully pushing around the food on her plate. “Adventuring,” she murmured vaguely, knowing it was a lie.

“Going to that arcade again, eh?” was the knowing reply. “Wasting your time and money. Why you didn’t stay at that fancy school of yours is beyond me. Wasting your parents’ money on something you don’t finish.”

Her grandmother continued, but Paige’s mind wandered away from the now cold meal and the old woman she had barely known before coming into her house: the old woman she still barely knew. Taylor was one game ahead of her, so there was no excuse to stray away from her usual routine and loose herself somewhere. Not that she would have missed their appointment, anyway. If she won the match today, and evened out their score, she would go off next week. She would find what she was looking for and finally, finally-

“Paige, isn’t it time for you to go to work?” her grandmother broke her out of her train of thought. “Don’t want to be late and screw up this as well.”

Paige glanced up, not responding to the second statement. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Right,” she rose from the chair with her breakfast only half finished. “Bye.”

Her grandmother frowned. “What?” she asked, her voice raising as it always did when her deafness became evident.

Paige just waved with a strained smile, grabbing her long winter coat and her purple messenger bag, complete with a multitude of buttons, on the way out the door.

She pulled on her headphones and pressed play, unconsciously matching her steps to the beat of her music. The town was still asleep, waiting to pounce into the day by storming the diner where Paige worked in droves. At least, she told herself, at least if she started early in the day, she finished early in the day.

The early morning air nipped mercilessly at her cheeks as she squinted through the fog and trudged down the suburban street toward downtown. Her music drowned out any early morning sounds that would usually fill the air to make her walk slightly more bearable. When the unnatural sound of twin motorcycle engines cut through the soothing sounds of her early morning playlist, Paige glanced up with a frown.

Through the fog, two headlights invaded her vision, before the bikes themselves came into view. They were shiny and black, but clearly not of the greatest quality and the seats appeared to be held together by duct tape. The riders faces were obscured by their helmets, though they wore dark jeans and leather jackets, riding the bikes with ease and experience, even if they were driving too fast and with little regard for the neighborhood.

Paige lifted an eyebrow. At home, in her city, such a sight would be mundane, but in this small, oppressing town, the pair seemed surreal. She watched their heads turn and watch her watch them as they sped past her, one with an appreciative, male, nod. Instinctively she crossed her arms over her chest, drawing in her shoulders. She could feel his eyes even if she couldn’t see them. She watched them ‘til they disappeared around the corner.

It came to her attention that she had stopped moving. She lifted her watch and swore under her breath before continuing down the street at a jog. She noticed a blonde head peering out of one of the houses that she recognized as Taylor’s, probably roused from the racket caused by the pair of motorcyclists. She didn’t have time to stop, though she saw Taylor noticing her, and continued forward at a faster rate.

“You’re late.” Paige rushed into the diner, five minutes before it was set to open, pulling off her headphones without turning off her music yet. Her boss was waiting with his apron on and his fists rested on his waist.

“I know, “ she glanced up. “I’m sorry. I got distracted on the way here.” Paige quickly pulled off her jacket and hung it up, before she turned off her music and shoved it into her bag before she hung that up with her jacket. “There were some guys on-“

“Motorcycles?” her surly boss cut in. “I know, I heard them blazing up the street a few minutes before you arrived. Hooligans, no doubt.”

Paige glanced up from adjusting her uniform and apron. “Why do you think they’re in town?” she asked. “Just passing through?” Secretly, she hoped they would make another appearance, curious as to what brought them to the capital of the middle of nowhere.

“Whatever they’re here for, they’re going to cause trouble,” was the only reply she got before her boss went muttering into the kitchen, telling her to open the diner.

Paige rolled her eyes at the small town, xenophobic mentality. She wiped down the tables, turned on the lights, flipped over the open/closed sign, and opened the doors to the public.

As if on cue, when the first pot of coffee was made, the regulars filed in, not even bothering to order and expecting their breakfast without fail. Paige sighed, and started into her day.