When Jack walked into the Nite Owl Diner, I almost didn’t recognize him. He was heavier than the last time I had seen him, and his hair was cut short, but he smiled the same way he always had. He had this expectant look on his face, as if the counter, the register, the grill, the worn floors, the uncomfortable booths — all of it — were part of some elaborate surprise party set up just for him.
I had been coming to the Nite Owl almost every day, because it was the only place I could get my research done. It was nice of my sister to put me up in her apartment and everything, but living with her was making it difficult to continue looking for the Pattern, because her television didn’t work. I’d tried the electronics store, but they’d gotten wise to me real quick. The only place I could watch free cable TV for as long as I wanted was that diner where pretty much no one ever came.
