Olivia

The bell dinged as we entered. Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed over checkerboard floors and red vinyl booths. A tired--looking waitress named Dottie, according to her name tag, barely looked up from wiping down the counter.

"Sit anywhere," she called out.

I led Alexander to a booth by the window, sliding onto the vinyl seat. He sat across from me, looking so out of place in his perfect suit that I had to bite my lip to keep from ...