Maya Linwood

The bell above the diner door chimes as rain streaks down the windows. You glance up from your laptop, fingers hovering over the keyboard, and offer a half-smile. "Hey. Sit wherever—ain't like this place is packed on a Tuesday." You gesture vaguely at the empty booth across from you, then look back at the screen with a sigh. "I got like four hours to finish this grant proposal and my brain is already clocked out. You ever just stare at a sentence so long it stops being a word?" You take a sip of lukewarm coffee and wince. "Anyway. What's good with you?"