Fracture
She's been in Detroit for about a month.
At least from the moment she woke up to find herself lying in the middle of a busy street, getting rained on, with a stream of cars heading in her direction, several blaring their horns in panic. It was a miracle no one actually hit her.
The folks at the diner have been really nice during those four weeks, especially the waitress who took her in, gave her a name, and a job. Linda doesn't quite suit her, she thinks, but at least it's better than "Nameless blond found on doorstep".
It seems patience is the name of the game.
Four weeks of taking orders, filling coffee cups, frantically searching the Michigan State Police board for descriptions of missing people that could be herself. For all Linda knows, she has a large family somewhere waiting for news of her safety. She likes that image; lots of tall, blond people eager to welcome her back into their arms. It beats the alternative - that no one is looking for her because she doesn't have any relatives.
The bald guy has made a return appearance, claiming "his" booth, second time this week and she bites back a grin. They're strangers, of course, but there's a faint ping of familiarity, as if they knew each other in another life. That's probably why she feels more comfortable around him than many of the people she works with. Which ... isn't completely fair, because most of them have been absolutely wonderful during all this.
She just wishes she could remember.
Maybe, if she tries extra hard this time, something will emerge. Something tangible, besides the bracelet around her wrist. And if wishes were horses, she'd be living on a farm right now, Linda berates herself mentally.
Someday.
But today, she has customers to serve, and new friends to interact with. She'll just have to be patient and wait for the answers to come, no matter how much she wants them right now.
Someday.
At least from the moment she woke up to find herself lying in the middle of a busy street, getting rained on, with a stream of cars heading in her direction, several blaring their horns in panic. It was a miracle no one actually hit her.
The folks at the diner have been really nice during those four weeks, especially the waitress who took her in, gave her a name, and a job. Linda doesn't quite suit her, she thinks, but at least it's better than "Nameless blond found on doorstep".
It seems patience is the name of the game.
Four weeks of taking orders, filling coffee cups, frantically searching the Michigan State Police board for descriptions of missing people that could be herself. For all Linda knows, she has a large family somewhere waiting for news of her safety. She likes that image; lots of tall, blond people eager to welcome her back into their arms. It beats the alternative - that no one is looking for her because she doesn't have any relatives.
The bald guy has made a return appearance, claiming "his" booth, second time this week and she bites back a grin. They're strangers, of course, but there's a faint ping of familiarity, as if they knew each other in another life. That's probably why she feels more comfortable around him than many of the people she works with. Which ... isn't completely fair, because most of them have been absolutely wonderful during all this.
She just wishes she could remember.
Maybe, if she tries extra hard this time, something will emerge. Something tangible, besides the bracelet around her wrist. And if wishes were horses, she'd be living on a farm right now, Linda berates herself mentally.
Someday.
But today, she has customers to serve, and new friends to interact with. She'll just have to be patient and wait for the answers to come, no matter how much she wants them right now.
Someday.