EMPTY DINER. 1:47 AM.

The place smells like mop water and ketchup. Not fresh ketchup. The kind that crusts on the edge of the bottle until it forms a little scab. Robin's stirring his coffee like it's a spell. Theo's poking at a slice of pie. Will just arrived.

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ROBIN:
You ever get so tired your thoughts start showing up out of order?
Like “I should sleep. But first I’ll worry about the thing that hasn’t happened yet. Then I’ll remember the eighth grade.”

THEO:
Oh yeah. My brain’s like a bar fight with no music. Just chairs and flashbacks. I’ll be trying to remember if I fed my cat and suddenly I’m reliving the time I called a teacher ‘Mom.’

ROBIN:
That’s the spirit. Neurosis, nostalgia, and a side of hash browns.

THEO:
Man, I used to think I was broken. Then I realized… no one’s working right. We’re all just out here duct-taping our emotions to the front of the fridge like a bad report card.

ROBIN:
You know what’s worse than being broken? Getting good at hiding it.
Smiling just right. Saying the right thing. People start thinking you’re fine. And then you’re stuck being fine.

(He laughs, but it’s soft. No act. Just that worn-down kind of funny.)

THEO:
Yeah. My mom used to say “You’re not depressed, you’re just bored.”
Which is a hell of a thing to tell a kid sitting alone in a bathtub wearin’ a snorkel.

ROBIN:
At least you had a snorkel. All I had was performance anxiety and a goldfish named Todd who wouldn’t make eye contact.

(The waitress refills their cups. Doesn’t say a word. She knows better. She’s got her own goldfish.)

THEO:
You think anyone’s actually happy, or just real committed to the bit?

ROBIN:
I think some people are at peace. But that’s not the same thing.
Peace is quieter. Doesn’t have a big Instagram following.

(They sit with that one. Sip. The jukebox starts playing something unrecognizable, like the ghost of a love song. Then Will slides into the booth next to Robin. Doesn’t say hi. Just grabs a creamer and starts drinking it like a shot.)

WILL:
I was talking to a guy outside who said he used to be a dentist.
Now he sells knives door-to-door. Said he never felt more free.
His eyes were bleeding, but I admired the commitment.

ROBIN:
Knives and cavities. One-stop shop.

THEO:
That’s the dream. Bleed from the eyes but tell everyone it’s allergies.

WILL:
You know what I miss? Being stupid and certain. I used to think love fixed people. Now I think it just hands them a flashlight and says, “Go ahead, crawl through the attic. See what’s up there.”

ROBIN:
Sometimes it’s raccoons.

WILL:
Sometimes it’s you. Wearing a birthday hat. Crying in a corner. Yelling at your dad’s ghost.

THEO:
One time I cried in a petting zoo. No real reason. Just hit me that I was thirty-four and the goat had more direction.

ROBIN:
The goat knew when to stop eating.

WILL:
Exactly. That goat had boundaries.

(Pause. Three men. Same booth. Different weights on their backs, same posture.)

THEO:
You think it ever gets easier? Or just… quieter?

ROBIN:
It gets funnier. Not ha-ha funny. But sit-back-and-smile-because-you-made-it-another-day funny.The kind where you burn the toast and just laugh, because at least you had bread.

WILL:
And a toaster.

THEO:
Hell yeah.

(Robin raises his mug like a tired knight. Theo taps his pie fork. Will finishes the last creamer.)

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FADE.

(Not out. Just fade. Like fog rolling in. Not to end anything. Just to soften it.)