It was myself and this 40 year old and attractive woman in this empty all-night diner, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Make up and tears ran down her face. Wild blonde, slightly gray hair. Disturbing green eyes, expressing years and years of torture and tough love. Black leather jacket, tight blue jeans, she was drunk, and I was... crazy.

"I am such a horrible mother," She explained, her hand shaking as she brought her Virginia Slim to her lips. "The bus system stops after midnight, I don't have money for a cab, and I live 40 miles away. I am such a horrible mother."

I did not say any thing. Some situations I believe it is better if I just keep my mouth shut and listen. And this was one of those situations. I just nodded my head. I ran my finger along the rim of my cup of coffee, hoping it will serve as some kind of fortune-telling device. But when I looked into it I did not see my future. I just saw the reflection of my eyes, the ceiling, and black. Well, perhaps I was looking into my future.

She buried her head into her arms and cried. "Why can't anything go right for me? My mother disowned me, I was raised by my grandmother who died when I was 16, I got pregnant at 17 and married my boyfriend, who later became a crack head and beat me at least three times a week. Now, I am a single mother of 4, and my 15 year old daughter is pregnant."

I did not say any thing. I extended my arm across the table and put my hand on her shoulder. I doubt if I provided any comfort to her. At least the stability of human contact is all some need. She cried until she fell asleep, and I covered her with my jacket. I sat at the table and continued to stare at my self through the cups of coffee I consumed. I watch the clock go by slow, relentless and out of control. I stared at the ceiling fan in an endless trance. Soft R&B played overhead. Watching an occasional car drive by. I sat there as the night passed, chain smoking, trying to see into my future, and watching over her as she slept, making sure it was not disturbed. Lord only knows, this is probably the best sleep she has gotten in her whole life. And if a nightmare swings by her way, hopefully mine will scare it away.

At 6:00 a.m. the construction workers flowed into the diner. I gently shook her shoulder to wake her up, and we left that place. She was having problems walking from lack of sleep and drinking all night. She threw her arm around my shoulder, and I walked her down the alley to the bus stop. She mumbled something incoherently. I kissed her forehead and helped her on the bus, and away she went. I walked home to my empty apartment and crawled on my bare mattress, covering my self in my sleeping bag, and I fell asleep with my arms wrapped around myself.