The Bell Above the Door

The bell jangled - same pitch as always, but the air around it seemed to tighten as if the sound had cut a seam in the afternoon. A woman stepped in from the street glare, pausing just long enough for the door to hush shut behind her. Navy power suit, heels that clicked a little too sharp for this tile, a leather tote that looked like it had its own mortgage. The woman’s sunglasses reflected the diner in miniature: line cook, pie case, two teenagers sharing fries, Chloe moving toward the coffee urn. She scanned the room like a person choosing a chess opening, chin high, mouth set - someone used to being listened to immediately.