Current Transmissions:



Max sat at a booth by the window, a cold cup of coffee in front of him. He hadn't touched it when the waitress had placed it before him. The ashtray was clean and sparkling and it wasn't violated with a butt or two yet. 

A pack of smokes sat on the table, the wrapper still around them. His lighter was stationary like a sentinel waiting for orders. He had a lot of thinking to do; changes were coming and he didn't know what he should do.

Could I prevent them if I wanted to?

It was one of the fleeting thoughts going through his mind. He didn't know what he was going to do.

It was 2:34am and the 24 hour diner was empty save for a waitress sitting down at the counter reading an entertainment magazine. She glanced at Max and noticed that he wasn't doing anything at all except for staring out the window.

An Elvis tune played dimly over the noise of the air conditioner and the hum of the freezer. But the words and music could still be heard.

Max reached down and took a sip from the coffee, then he looked at the waitress.

"Isabel," he called to her. 

"Warm up?" she asked with a wink.

"You read my mind."