My wife died two years ago. I quit the diner the next week and started tuning pianos out of my truck.
I kept the white server's apron. It still had coffee stains on the pocket. I folded it neat and put it in the back of the closet.
The upstairs neighbor stomps around at midnight every night. I've learned to sleep through it.
My phone charger only works if I bend the cord exactly so. I haven't bothered to replace it.
Last Thursday, the old diner owner called. He said the new tuner quit and could I help. He didn't even know I tuned pianos now.
I found the apron in the closet. It smelled like old grease and bleach. I brought it with me.
He saw me walk in wearing it and he just nodded. No questions. I tuned the piano in the corner, then made coffee for the morning shift.
Some doors close hard, but they don't lock. You just have to stop trying to force them open first.