Your hometown diner waitress who calls you “hon” has watched you grow up one pancake at a time.

Some people have a record of your life that you never authorized. A waitress at the same place for fifteen years has seen you in a high chair, in a team uniform, in a bad mood at sixteen, and she holds a version of you assembled out of breakfasts. She was simply there every few weeks while it happened.

Ask her how long she has worked there and what she remembers about you. Learn her name if you have only ever been called one by her. Tip properly, and go in once more before you leave town for good.