Along the highway, at a service area off National Route, the time was 2:00 a.m. The only sounds in the late-night shop were the automatic doors opening and closing and the faint hum of the drink cooler.
Haruka stood behind the night shift counter as always. Far from the city lights, this place still saw the occasional trucker or long-distance driver, even at this hour. But there was one customer she had quietly taken notice of—someone who came like clockwork every week.
A black semi-truck. A quiet man. He would always buy a can of coffee and sit on the bench outside. She didn’t know his name. From her first night on the job, he had always appeared, unchanged.
“Thank you, as always.”
Those were the first words she ever spoke to him. He simply nodded and raised the can in a silent gesture before walking away.
Since then, every Thursday night, the same exchange repeated.
One night, heavy rain poured outside. Few customers came, and Haruka was alone in the store, doing her end-of-shift checks when the automatic door opened.
“Good evening.”
It was him—the truck driver. Soaked in a raincoat, his expression unchanged. He picked up his usual can of coffee and was about to head to the bench when he suddenly wobbled on his feet.
“…Are you alright?”
Startled, Haruka called out. The man nodded slowly.
“…Just a bit of a fever.”
“Then… would you like to rest for a bit?”
After a pause, he walked to the rest area in the back of the shop and sat down. Haruka brought over a warm cup of tea from the pot and sat beside him.
“Can I ask your name?”
“Yusuke.”
“I’m Haruka… I work here.”
“I know. Since three months ago, right?”
They shared a small laugh.
After a while, Yusuke began to speak quietly.
“…I used to drive this route with my wife. I’d drive, she’d sing in the passenger seat. We’d talk about silly things.”
Haruka didn’t reply. His voice carried the deep hues of the night.
“She passed away from an illness. I’ve got no one left to talk to. But when I drive this road, it feels like… she’s still here somehow.”
“And… this place?”
“This was her favorite stop.”
Haruka gripped the cup in her hands.
“I lost something too… Music. Singing. After an accident, I nearly lost my voice. I can’t go back on stage anymore.”
She gave a wry smile.
“People who come here… maybe they’re all carrying something. Leaving something behind, or picking something up.”
“Yeah, maybe. Service areas are like that—a pause between journeys.”
The rain eased, and dawn began to hint at the horizon.
Haruka took a breath and spoke.
“If you don’t mind… next Thursday, same time. Will you come again?”
Yusuke looked off into the distance for a moment, as if thinking. Then he nodded gently.
“…I’ll come.”
It wasn’t a confession, but it was something just as clear. A promise exchanged without needing the words.
As the sky began to lighten, he returned to his truck. The engine rumbled to life, and he slowly drove off.
Haruka looked out the window and whispered,
“See you again, Yusuke-san.”
Night gave way to morning. Another day at the service area began.
A one-night blues tune had played—quiet, unnoticed—but undeniably real.
