Lionel was counting down the minutes until the end of her shift, which was unfortunate for her since it began at five am and ended in eight hours and twenty-eight minutes. She usually tried to avoid counting the minutes until at least five hours in, but sometimes she indulged herself.

The counting did not in fact improve the work experience, but it did manage to amplify her sheer awareness of time itself and the idea she might be stuck in endless loops. Loop after loop of similar faces, usual complaints, and aching feet.

Lionel was waiting for one minute to pass, and then the next, and the next, but they never really seemed to.

The first two hours of a morning shift were the worst, slow, boring, and the chef was often taking a nap in the back. The late-night truckers didn’t even compliment her eye makeup or try to find out her phone number, home address, social security number, and whether she had a boyfriend or not-- and if he was big. Though the last part was a perk.

It was the hour for nobodies, people questioning their own place in time and losing their identity to “five am.” Five am wasn’t a time, it was a place, and they were all one person there, similarly weary, adrift, and waiting for the second hand on the clock to tick forward.

Lionel was listening to the chef turning up his podcast from the back, she hoped to God it wasn’t the one she thought it was. However, there was a lot of girlish giggling and syrupy slow voices coming in from the back.

She had 8 hours twenty-four minutes left.

The door chimed, bell echoing dimly. “Booth for one.”

Lionel whipped around, preparing herself for at least a little activity and something to keep her busy. And then she stopped, paused, and held herself very still.

She couldn’t stop herself from wrinkling her nose since apparently the monthly weirdos were appearing. The scent of fresh dirt filled the entrance, mud and something distinctly visceral, heady.

A girl looked back at her through short messy dark bangs, she had a small mouth and dark olive eyes. She met Lionel’s gaze with a certain firmness there. She was wearing a tattered shirt of unknown color with holes in it and khaki pants in a similar shape. Lionel fumbled for her first words.

“Booth for one.” The girl repeated and drummed her fingers against her leg.

Lionel had a decision to make, and she had to make it quick. She was technically the manager on duty since it was just her and the chef right then, but this felt like something for a more managier-manager, an adultier-adult.

Lionel cleared her throat. The girl’s eyes darkened and worry lies permeating her features. She pointed down at her tattered clothes, they were streaked in fresh earth and had long tears along the pants cuffs and shirt sleeves. It looked like a war movie where they forgot to add the rest of the set around the actress.

“Construction.” The girl said weakly, pointing down at her neo-grunge appearance. “Hope y'all don’t mind.”

Lionel pondered on that for a second longer. “Construction” was hard to believe, but who hasn’t walked into an establishment completely wrecked and looking for a little bacon? Lionel didn’t have time to judge strangers-- she still had twenty minutes left in that hour. She made a snap decision.

“This way,” she turned, spreading a practiced smile across her face like buttering a piece of dry toast. “Tough morning?”

The girl shrugged, “just a bit of a mishap.” Her eyes darted around, “boss gave me the day off after.”

Lionel opened her mouth to ask why she didn’t just go home, but it felt a little cruel to poke at her lie.

“Well,” she seated the girl at one of the middle booths where no one could see it from the front door. “I’ll be your server today.” Lionel placed a menu in front of her and nodded down pleasantly. “Welcome to Millie’s Diner.”

“Thanks,” the girl squinted at Lionel’s name tag, “Xena?” Lionel forgot she was wearing one of the other waitress’s name tags, a pastime of sorts. “Like the warrior princess?”

Lionel chuckled and touched her hair absently, “Yeah. Exactly like the warrior princess.”

The girl’s face lit up for the first time and a smile broke like a sunny cracked egg across it. “Cool.”

“This job is just my side hustle of course,” she said blithely, “warrior princess gigs don’t pay the bills.”

“Naturally,” the girl straightened up in place and a little more life returned to her movements.

“Speaking of which,” Lionel flicked her notepad open, “can I get you started with some coffee? Juice?”

She shook her head, “just some water.” She went back to mumbling, “and some fried eggs and toast to start with.”

“Sounds good,” Lionel started writing.

“Stack of pancakes, do you have those flavored syrup?”

“Yeah, blueberry, strawberry, peach,” she kept writing.

“Strawberry then. A plate of bacon, two sausage links, and a, uh, hmm, okay, also a rocky mountain omelet and breakfast burrito. Extra sour cream.”

Lionel blinked a couple times, “should I expect anyone else to be joining you?” She asked without missing a beat.

The girl shook her head sheepishly, “nope. Just me.”

Lionel looked down at her notes, a silence stretched out a little longer than necessary. “No problem. Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Lionel stuffed her pencil back into her apron, “let me put that in for you.” She turned toward the back to prompt Mike to heat up the grill, they were apparently feeding at least three people in one.

“Thanks!”

Lionel slipped away, putting the order in and then watching the strange girl from afar. She was barefoot. She was as muddy as a dust bowl.

When Lionel brought her food over she descended on her breakfast with the fury of a small tractor flattening a field. Lionel surveyed the scene mildly and picked up the empty plates one by one as discarded corpses on a battlefield.

“Are you from around here?” Lionel asked casually as she picked up the third empty plate.

The girl’s eyes rose carefully and she shook her head, “just passing through.”

Lionel smiled, “where are you headed?”

She shrugged, “I’ll only be here for a month at least.” She said instead, “and then, um, new construction site after.”

She cocked her head to the side, “sounds like an interesting life.”

“It’s a life.” The girl smiled slowly, “I don’t suppose you’re from around here, warrior princess?”

Lionel’s expression tightened, “trying not to be.”

She wasn’t sure why she said something so telling, but it was five am. The sun was barely bleaching the land and everything tasted of faded colors and forgotten things. Lionel had felt like a faded color herself for a while now.

The dirty stranger ate enough for a small army, paid, and disappeared without another word. She tipped 26% on her card and wrote a small note on the receipt: fight some monsters for me princess, yeah?

There was a sword drawn next to it, and the doodle of a freckly girl with a crown.