“They thought I was just the quiet diner cook who poured their coffee every morning, but they didn’t know the haunting secret I buried under my apron until the valley wind echoed with a truth I could no longer hide…”
Part 1: I never wanted to look through a scope again. But some ghosts simply don’t care about what you want. It’s 11:45 PM on a freezing Tuesday night in Bozeman, Montana. The wind is howling down the main street, rattling the single-pane windows of the empty diner where I work. I’m sitting alone in…
