Creamer towers as a cure for anxiety. (Open)
It was so early in the morning that most people weren't even out, but the diner was open. Its neon sign declared that it was a twenty-four hour establishment, which is part of what attracted Raven. The other part was the heater; she'd gone to bed in a slightly warmer climate, and when she'd woken up in a strange place she'd gone out to explore dressed for the weather at home.
It had been a mistake. She should've taken a heavier jacket, but it was too late. She wasn't sure she could find her way back - nothing was familiar here - and she needed a little shelter and warmth before she tried to backtrack and retrace her steps.
She was nursing a cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes that was far too large for her to eat by herself. She'd intended to box it; if she could ever get back to the place where she'd woken up, she was pretty sure she'd find a refrigerator. Two little creamers sat empty on the table, and three others had been inverted and stacked in a pyramid shape. The food sat half eaten to her side, so that she could concentrate her energy on her triumph of engineering and architecture. She was busy trying to balance a sugar packet on top, like a roof. Raven's hands shook a little, and the right was lightly bandaged, but she wore a look of intense concentration. She was going to build her creamer-and-sugar house. It would distract her from the fear and uncertainty she was feeling as a result of waking up alone in a strange place.