The sharply dressed man turned to leave, his presence still commanding.
As he reached the door, he paused, looking back at me.
“Take care,” he said, his voice carrying a weight of its own.
Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.
The bikers began to stir, preparing to leave as well.
One of them approached me, a quiet gratitude in his eyes.
“You did good,” he said simply.
I nodded, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie.
The last of the bikers filed out, leaving the diner feeling oddly empty.
I glanced around the room, the remnants of the night still present.
