Starlight Diner

Good evening and welcome to The Starlight Diner, the perfect roadside oasis on this warm, clear night. A pink neon sign at the edge of the parking lot beckons guests towards this beloved greasy spoon hidden in plain sight along a desolate desert road. The warm neon glow washes over the people inside and dances across the navy candlelit tabletops. The booths, made from soft indigo flannel, are stationed beneath a large, domed glass ceiling, offering guests an unmatched view of the stars above as they enjoy their meals. You might feel as though you were traveling in a spaceship if you weren't nestled in a cozy booth. And without the competition of city lights, you can take your time counting the constellations above while sipping on a milkshake. As you settle into your corner booth, let's begin the evening with a short wind down exercise. Tonight's exercise is a really simple breathing exercise so when you're ready, let's begin. So, first, get yourself comfortable. Now, just bringing the attention to the breath. Just noticing where you feel it in the nose, the throat, the chest, the diaphragm. You're nice and relaxed. We're going to be taking a deep breath in for four, holding it for four, and then breathing out for six. So, are you ready? Let's begin. In for four, two, three, four. Hold it for four, two, three, four. Now, breathing out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. Great. Now, returning the breath to normal. Well, a diner itself is lit only by candles and stars. The kitchen is another story. Crisp, bright light shines down on metal surfaces betraying the presence of any renegade crumb. The kitchen team is small and efficient, working together like a well-rehearsed orchestra. The head chef Jake leans over a plate of waffles, adding the final dollop of whipped cream before sending them out. His arms and hands are covered in intricate tattoos of red and gold koi fish swimming their way towards his fingers. He got them in his youth and the ink has since faded, yet the colorful scales still stand out against his spotless white chef's coat. Nowadays he is all about utility. He keeps his jet black hair cut short just to shave a few minutes of his morning routine. On the other side of the kitchen, the dishwasher Rita cleans a pile of silverware. The water bans out into little particles uniting with the metal and soap. A pile of suds forms. Unhindered by weight, tiny bubbles rise above Rita's head. They hold colorful reflections of the cooks below silently popping without ceremony. Rita scrubs...