Sometimes all it takes to survive the cold is someone who doesn't walk away."
The diner was nothing special.
Flickering neon sign. Worn booths. A bell on the door that squeaked every time someone walked in.
But in that moment, it felt like shelter.
Like warmth in a city that didn't know how to be soft.
Riley slid into a booth by the window and waved for me to sit across from her.
"They have bottomless coffee for two bucks," she said. "Pretty much heaven if you're broke and tired."
I smiled, still unsure if this was real —
someone choosing to sit with me, talk to me… see me.
The waitress didn't even ask.
She poured us both coffee and left two tiny creamers on the table like she knew the routine.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, the kind that isn't awkward — just necessary.
"So," Riley finally said, stirring her coffee. "What's your plan?"
I laughed under my breath.
"You think I have one?"
"You left home without a plan?"
"I left because staying felt worse."
She didn't answer right away.
Just looked out the window at the people rushing past, all bundled up in layers of purpose.
"I get it," she said softly. "Sometimes even the wrong road feels better than staying stuck."
She looked back at me.
"I wanted to run away so many times. Just… go. No one would've stopped me. But I couldn't leave my grandma."
"That's brave," I said.
"It doesn't feel brave. Feels like a choice between drowning and watching someone else drown."
Her voice cracked just a little on that last word.
But she didn't cry.
"What about you?" she asked, changing the subject. "Any talents? Skills?"
I shrugged.
"I write sometimes. Mostly for myself. Never thought it mattered."
"Words matter," she said. "Especially when you feel like you don't."
That sat with me longer than I expected.
"You know," she added, "this city's tough. But it's also weird. People come out of nowhere. Sometimes, help does too."
I wanted to believe that.
We sat there for almost an hour.
Just talking. Or not.
Two people with messy pasts and no clear futures —
sharing warmth over bottomless coffee.
And in that moment, for the first time in days,
I didn't feel lost.
I felt seen.