Margaret cleared her throat, suddenly aware that everyone in the diner had turned slightly in their seats to watch.
“I'm sorry to bother you,” she said quietly, her voice trembling more than she expected. “I know you're probably traveling through, but I wondered if I could ask something.”
The men exchanged curious glances, and Grizz gestured to the empty chair beside their booth.
“You're not bothering anyone. Please, sit if you'd like.”
Margaret remained standing, afraid that if she sat down she might lose the courage to speak. So instead, she clutched the cane tighter and continued.
“My husband passed away last week. We were married 68 years.”
The bikers' expressions softened instantly. One of them lowered his gaze respectfully while another removed his cap.
“I'm sorry for your loss,” Grizz said quietly.
Margaret nodded and continued, the words coming slowly but steadily now.
“His funeral is tomorrow morning. The church scheduled it for 10, but there's... well, there's almost no one left to come.”
She paused, embarrassed by how small and helpless the problem sounded when spoken aloud.
“Most of our friends are gone, and the few who are still around can't travel anymore.”
She forced a weak smile.
“I suppose I'm just afraid Walter will be buried with an empty room.”
For a moment, the entire diner felt unusually quiet. The hum of the refrigerator and the clink of dishes from the kitchen suddenly louder than before.
Grizz leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.
“And what is it you're asking, ma'am?”
Margaret looked down at the floor, gathering the last bit of courage she had.