George was having a bad day. Not even oatmeal and raisins appeared to turn it around. She frowned at her bowl and stared downward at the table. Next to the bowl was a post-it note. Her first post-it note in some time. Normally it might have cheered her up. Not the someone-was-going-to-die part, but knowing that things had gone back to normal just a little bit.
The door to Der Waffle House opened and the grim reaper welcomed the distraction. She looked back, but didn't recognize any of the faces. A part of her hoped Dexter might walk through. He hadn't.