In this story, Beth is going to be a little older at the age of 22. Daryl is around the same age, late 30's early 40's. But anyways, I've been tossing this idea around in my head for awhile and finally decided to write it! Enjoy!

The Hearth was a small diner set in the woods of Georgia. It didn't get many customers, but the few it did get were usually older folks which the staff knew by name. On this particular night, it was quiet, only a few people in the diner, sipping away at the coffee in their mugs. There was only one waitress working and a cook.

Her name was Beth Greene. She didn't mind working the overnight shift. She was covering a two hour time period until the usual waitress could make it in. Beth usually kept to herself, not very talkative and shy. She was a genuine southern belle, blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a tall, lean body.

She liked to read books of poetry, wear a lot of white and listen to acoustic music. She always thought she was a very plain person. Beth easily got lost in her mind while she was working. She would be thinking of another world, or be reciting poetry to herself. She would often be caught dancing, twirling around, her apron flaring out around her.

The older women in the diner would admire her youth and how absorbed she could be in her own mind. She was a breathe of fresh air, a cold drink of water. It was around eleven o'clock on this particular night and Beth's shift had just started.

She tied her apron over her waitress dress and tucked her bangs behind her ear. There were two people in the whole diner, a couple sharing cups of coffee in the corner booth, obviously in love and oblivious to the world.

Beth tidied up the counter with a rag and then sat down to doodle in her receipt booklet. She drew the normal clouds, diamonds, eyes, hearts, stars and other patterns all revolving around the sentence "dream of a new day." She chewed on the end of the pen, thinking about what to draw next while twirling a lock of her hair.

The tinkle of the bell had broken her concentration in the middle of drawing smiley faces – all with different expressions. Beth's eyes flickered up, meeting the customer at the door. It was a man, dressed warmly for the wintertime.

He approached the diner's counter and took a seat on one of the barstools. Beth ripped off the piece of doodled on paper and threw it in the waste can before approaching him. "Good evening," she said quietly and placed a menu down in front of him.

He smiled up at her, closed mouth and tired eyes. But such beautiful eyes. That was one of Beth's favorite things in the world – eyes. His were a beautiful shade of blue, only a little darker than her own eyes. Beth wasn't naïve, she noticed the tired bags under his eyes, the thinness of his lips and his overgrown hair. She still thought he was attractive. "What'll yah have to drink?" Beth asked curiously.

The man hunched his shoulders, the collar of his flannel jacket brushing against the stubble of his beard. "Just a coffee, black," he grunted at her. Beth gave a small nod and sauntered over to the coffee station where four coffee pots were, all of them steaming. She plucked one off of its hot plate and poured it into a clean mug.

She cast a look over her shoulder at the man she had never seen before this night. He intrigued her, and she didn't know why. Beth felt the hot liquid spill over the edge of the mug and burn her fingers. She tore her gaze away from the man and cleaned up the mug with a rag, sucked her finger a little and then walked back to her customer.

Beth set the mug down on a cork coaster in front of him. "Ready to order?" She asked, wiping her finger off on her apron and pulling out a pen. He nodded, taking a small sip of the scalding coffee.

"I'll have the steak, baked potato as the side, please," he said, folding the laminated menu shut and sliding it towards Beth. His eyes skirted over her name tag attached to her dress over her right breast. He thought the name suited her. Beth was an innocent name. He wondered if it was for Bethany of Elizabeth or just plain Beth.

Beth finished scratching down his order on her pad and smiled down at him. "It'll be out soon," she said, turning and disappearing into the kitchen. She handed the cook – a crotchety old man who never really talked to Beth – the order slip and returned to the main dining room.

She glanced to the corner booth where the young couple had been and saw their abandoned table. Beth scooted around the counter and headed towards the booth to clean up the mess they left behind. Her eyes only gave one look towards the man seated at the counter before making it to the booth.

He wore ripped corduroy jeans and clunky boots. She took him for a hunter or a farmer, but she couldn't be too sure. One of her regular customers, Donnie, dressed almost identically to this man and he was a banker. Beth pushed the man out of her thoughts.

Beth cleaned up the two mugs, only a bit of coffee still left in them and wiped down the table with a rag. She dumped the cooled off coffee down the sink and placed the mugs in the sudsy water for the dishwasher who came in a few hours later.

Beth scooted back behind the counter, pulling out her pen and paper again to doodle until his order was up. She couldn't help it, but she ended up sketching the man, cradling his coffee cup for the warmth that came off of it. It was a rough sketch done all in blue ink, but it allowed her to sneak glances at the stranger.

She wanted to commit his image to memory and this was the best way she knew how. She drew in the bangs that fell into his eyes, thinking the shade of blue ink was perfect to describe the man's eye color. Below her drawing of his upper body, Beth drew just an eye – his eye.

Small and squinty. She stole another look at the man and he was staring into his coffee. Beth wanted him to look up so she could get the shape of his eye just perfect, but he didn't. Beth huffed, fisting her hand under her chin. She folded the paper up and slipped it into the pocket of her apron.

Just as she did, the cook dinged the food bell and slid the man's steak and baked potato onto the metal landing zone. Beth reached for his food and placed it in front of him, who scooted his coffee aside to make room for his meal. "Could yah just cut into your steak for me?" Beth asked, shifting her weight from side to side.

The man nodded and cut into the meat, juices spilling out around the knife. He popped the wedge of meat into his mouth on the fork and chewed. "It's perfect, thank you," he said. Beth nodded and returned to her stool by the cash register.

He was a man of few words, but he was still polite. She watched as he ate, chewing slowly. He cast a glance her way and caught her staring. Beth quickly avoided his eyes and grabbed a book of poetry from under the counter. She flipped open to a random page and focused on the words printed on the page.

You

You kissed my lips and I felt a flutter in my heart,

You touched my hand and lit a spark in my body,

You stared into my eyes and saw straight into my soul,

You put your arms around me and I was finally complete.

- Laura Aguiar -

Beth smiled at the small but meaningful poem. "Miss?" She heard. She looked up, meeting another blue gaze. It was the man calling her, seeing as they were the only two people in the dining room. "Bring your stool on over here," he suggested with a wave of his hand.

Heat bloomed in Beth's chest. What possibly could this man want to talk about? She has held conversation with the women who come in for breakfast, but this was different. Beth picked up her stool and set it down on the opposite side of the counter from the man.

He was already halfway through his steak and eaten some of his baked potato. "What're yah reading?" He asked, licking grease off of his finger.

Beth fidgeted on her stool, crossing her legs and balancing the book on her knee. "Oh, just a book a poetry," Beth said, fiddling with the end of the pages, running her nail over them. She smiled down at her hands, blushing.

"Read it to me, please. Only a few poems can make a woman blush like that," he said, hands hovering over his plate. He was staring at her. She didn't feel scrutinized under his gaze, but comfortable. Beth recited the poem to him and finished by closing the book once again.

The man nodded and smiled down at his hands. "What's your name?" Beth found herself asking. The man's tired eyes settled on hers. They looked like a storm, blue/grey and raging. They weren't angry, though.

"It's Daryl," he said, popping another wedge of meat into his mouth and chewed it methodically. Beth thought that was a nice name for him, it suited him. He looked like a Daryl. "And you're Beth," he said, stating the obvious. Beth smiled and nodded, tucking her loose hair behind her ear again.

Beth glanced down to see his coffee mug empty. She grasped the handle and returned to the coffee station to fill it up. It was such a simple conversation that they had shared, but she enjoyed it. She felt like she had known Daryl for years. She smiled to herself, but quickly gained a neutral façade when turning back to him.

She set his coffee down and he thanked her. "I'm finished, thank you," he said, pushing his plate forward an inch. Beth relieved him of the left over potato shell and placed the plate in the sink. "Can I ask you another question?" Even though he had asked her another question already. Beth nodded. "What were you drawing?"

Beth paled. He had been watching her, too. She couldn't tell him that she was sketching him, that would be weird. He was the first customer she decided to draw, ever. She wasn't the best artist, and she wasn't going to show him the small doodle she did of him. Beth lied, "eyes."

"Can I see?" He asked, eyeing her apron's pocket. He had seen her slip it in. There was a single eye on the paper, but it was his and she was sure he would notice. She shook her head, blushing again.

"I'd rather not, I'm not a very good artist. Just small doodles," she said, looking into his storming eyes. Daryl was about to open his mouth to say something else, but the door signaled someone else coming in. He shut his mouth quickly. Beth looked to had come in, but it was only her replacement; she was early. "Jeanine," she breathed, shoulders sagging slightly.

Jeanine's brow furrowed at the sight of Beth talking with a strange man. "I'm early, I know," she waved through air. "Kid actually fell asleep on time for once." She hurried behind the counter, placing a kiss on Beth's cheek. "I'll finish up here, you go on n' get," Jeanine ordered. "Get some sleep, oh, and thanks for covering for a bit."

Beth didn't have the courage to say anything to Jeanine in the moment, not in front of Daryl. All she did was nod and gather her things from under the counter. She could feel his eyes on her as she packed her stuff up in her small purse. Beth slipped on her jacket, fished her car keys out and excused herself from the diner without a goodbye to Daryl or Jeanine.