He looked tired. Bags under his eyes, cigarette dangling from his lips, unlit (of course).
"I'm quitting the Socials."
Lisbet dropped her writing pad, stunned. She slowly slid into the seat across from him, disbelief written across her face. "Why?" Don't leave me.
Mikka sighed, tracing his finger across the edge of the table. "I can't deal with it anymore, Lisbet. I'm leaving. Tonight. Get a fresh start in a different state."
"But, you. . .you can't." Her mascara started to run, driven by the tears welling up in the corner of her vision. "You can't!" She said it more forcefully this time.
He glared at her, dropping the cigarette from his mouth. "I can and I will. Lisbet, I . . .would you possibly . . .come with me?" Mikka looked hopeful, eyes brightening.
Lisbet stood up from the vinyl seat, still in shock. "Mikka. I have a life here. I can't just up and leave. Write me, okay? And call the diner sometime. Visit too. I'll be here. Waiting, if you decide to come back."
He nodded, motioning for her to come closer and placing a hand on her cheek. "I promise I'll come visit. And call. And write. I love ya, Lisbet."
"Yeah. Me too." He left as soon as she walked away, tears prickling at the back of her throat, until she realized: How am I going to break this to the Socials?