Business was a little slow and Dahlia was looking through the plate glass at the moon. It was almost full and she could see his gaping mouth. When it was entirely full, the moon looked like a porthole to a world beyond.
Her hands ached with the wounds of Christ, making her waitress duties quite an ordeal. But she was happy. She felt like she was being purified.
Dahlia's reverie was interrupted by a new customer. He was kind of short, with a pug nose and big, dark, winking eyes. He sat at the counter.
"What'll it be?"
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm Dahlia."
"Is that all?"
"What do you want? My last name?"
"Is that all you are? Dahlia? Is that all you could be? Is that all you're going to be? And just this Dahlia? Just this one Dahlia and that's all? Are you sure there's nothing outside of Dahlia you could be? Nothing before Dahlia?"
"What do you want?"
"I want to take you out on my bike after your shift."
"What for?"
"To talk about who you are."
"I know who I am."
"Have you seen Him yet?"
"Who?"
"Jesus."
"Yes I have."
"Well, if you don't mind I'd like to discuss this with you."
"I get off at midnight."