Until the door slammed open.
Three bikers walked in, loud and deliberate, heavy boots striking the floor like a challenge. Leather jackets creaked as they moved, patches stitched proudly across their backs. The room seemed to change temperature instantly. Conversations softened. Heads turned, then turned away.
These weren’t men looking for food. They were looking for attention.
They laughed loudly, bumping into chairs as they scanned the diner. When they spotted the old man sitting alone, enjoying his pie, something in their expressions sharpened.
Easy target.
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