The diner buzzed with the usual hum of clinking cutlery and idle chatter. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating the tired yet welcoming booths. Mia, the waitress, moved between tables, her mind elsewhere—lost in thoughts of bills, dreams deferred, and the endless cycle of life in a small town.

When she approached the corner booth, a woman sat alone, her features partially obscured by the wide brim of a floppy hat. With a slight nod, the woman slid a crumpled piece of paper across the table, her fingers trembling slightly. Mia reached for it, noting the way the woman's eyes darted around the diner, as if she feared being seen.

Mia glanced down at the paper, her heart quickening as she read the single word scrawled in hurried ink: "Help."

Before she could respond, the woman vanished into the throng of patrons, leaving Mia with a sense of unease that settled heavily in her chest. The diner felt different now, each laugh and conversation echoing in her mind like an unanswered question.

The rest of her shift dragged on, the note a persistent weight in her pocket. The atmosphere, usually familiar and comforting, now felt charged with an unsettling energy. She couldn’t shake the image of the woman—her wide, fearful eyes, her hurried movements. What kind of help did she need? Was she in danger?

After clocking out, Mia drove home with the note still clutched in her hand, its crumpled edges digging into her palm. Once inside her small apartment, she spread the paper out on her kitchen table, examining it under the harsh overhead light. The single word stared back at her, demanding action.

The next day, she returned to the diner, her heart pounding as she scanned the room for any sign of the woman. Hours passed, but the only new faces were those of regulars—people she had served countless times before. Frustrated, she decided to investigate on her own.

After her shift, she drove to the nearest police station, the note crumpled in her pocket like a...