What the hell is that light? Charlie put his arm over his face and rolled to one side. Sunshine! He sat up slowly, squinting, feeling for the clock on the nightstand.

"Jesus! Seven-thirty." He dropped the clock and flopped down on his back, staring at the stained ceiling. When the hell did I come to bed? With a foul mood groan, he pushed himself up and swung around to sit on the edge of the bed, looking at his bare feet. "Take me somewhere, for Christ's sake. I can't just keep sitting here."

With an effort, he stood and headed for the bathroom, steadying himself on the door frame as he entered. The light shimmered and then settled into a feeble glow as he confronted himself in the water stained mirror. "Christ, ghost of Christmas past." His unshaven face felt rough under his fingers, and he sighed unhappily. "That's more than a day, Charlie boy." He went back to the bedroom and got his wristwatch, squinting at the calendar. Sunday. Where did Saturday go?

Half an hour to scrape off the beard, wash, and slap some life into his head. He dressed, checked his pants for his wallet, change, and car keys, and then headed out of the dingy hotel room to find a place to eat something.

"You look like you could use an aspirin." The woman handed him a menu and stood hipshot, waiting while he glanced at the offerings.

"That how you work for tips, charming the customers?"

"I'd be retired if that worked. But you do look like you were ridden hard and put away wet. I've got some aspirin if you'd like one."

Charlie's grin was ironic, and he held up his hands and shook his head. "Fine. Aspirin on rye toast, and black coffee please."

She laughed and scribbled something on her pad, then rolled away on what looked like feet that were tired already.

"One part bottle of aspirin, black coffee, rye toast and a gourmet selection of toppings." She dropped a handful of tiny plastic containers on the table.

"Thanks . . . Rose." He leaned over to read her name tag.

"Refills of coffee are free." She nodded and went back behind the counter.

Charlie opened the bottle and tipped out a couple of pills, washing them down with the coffee. A small container of some red content was spread onto his toast, and he bit off a chunk, chewing and staring out the window. There goes the world, he thought, spinning on its merry way, not a thought for Charlie Croft or his problems. What's it all for? Why do we even bother? We go like crazy for seventy, eighty years and then what, into the ground? Heaven, if there is such a place? Hell? He laughed out loud, attracting a few glances from other customers. This is hell.

"Want a refill?" Rose stood, coffee pot hovering over his cup.

"Huh? Uh, yeah, sure." He licked some jam from his finger and sat back while she poured.

"Aspirin help yet?"

"Don't think they were intended for ruined lives."

"Oh my, I thought I heard you laugh."

"I was thinking – it was sardonic."

"My daddy always said, Rose, life is what you do with it, the choices you make. Make bad choices and life won't be kind."

"Has your life been kind, Rose?"

"Considering some of the customers I've tried to charm, I'd have to say yes." Her eyes twinkled and she showed a pleasant grin.

"Touché."

Rose cleared away his dirty dishes and came back with the coffee pot again.

"Mind if I take my break with you?"

"Is this one of your good choices?" Charlie leaned back on his chair and considered the woman.

"It's a work in progress." She smiled. "Sounds like you made some bad choices."

"Let's just say I abused all the good choices I made. I had a streak of successes that had me so full of myself, I didn't see the stop sign. Now I'm wondering if it's even worth hanging around." He poked absently at the edge of the table.

Rose frowned and rested her tongue on her top lip a moment. "The opposite- I don't know your name."

"Charlie's fine."

"You should be doing just the opposite, Charlie. Put the past away, it's done and gone. Take a new grip on life and make it the way you want it to be . . . the end comes soon enough."

"That more of your daddy's philosophy?"

Her hopeful smile faded. "When you get good advice, Charlie, call it a gift horse." She picked up her cup and the pot and headed back to the counter.

He watched her leave, and felt his neck a little. She had been interested enough to try and help, and he was too full of self-pity to accept it. Damn, Croft! That's two people – strangers for God's sake – that have offered you positive thoughts He stood and put some money on the table – a decent tip – not an insult to her empathy, and went to the counter.

"Thank you, Rose. Here's the bottle of aspirin. Your kind words worked better." With a half wave, he left the diner.