Emily's POV
Rosie's Diner smelled like burnt coffee and ambition.
Mostly burnt coffee.
I had been scrubbing the same section of counter for the past four minutes, which my colleague Catherine had pointed out twice already, but my hands needed something to do or my head was going to split clean open.
The headache had been sitting behind my left eye since Tuesday. Today was Friday. We were not friends, this headache and I, and it showed no signs of leaving.
"Table four needs a refill," Catherine said, sliding past me with a pot.
"I got it."
"You've been getting it for ten minutes."
"I'm thorough."
She gave me the look. The look that said you're new here but I can already tell you're one of those people. I gave her a smile that said you're absolutely right and I have no plans to change.
I grabbed the coffee pot and went to table four.
