We pulled up to a very old, very familiar building. Michael sighed and sat back abruptly as he put the truck in park.

"I haven't been here..." he said. "In I don't know how long."

"What?"

"I never come here anymore. I've been too busy with school and stuff."

"Wait-What?" I was dumbfounded. A long time ago, we'd all loved the place too much to be away from it for very long.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I guess none of us really do anymore... Come on, you'll see, we can talk more inside."

I stopped outside the car to stare up at the old sign against the clouded sky. So strange, with how many times I had looked at it, it had never been more familiar than it was at that moment.
With a shock I realised, I hadn't heard anything about the rest of them, or the band, at all. Not even my parents had mentioned them... I guess everyone just figured Michael would catch me up.

The tinkle of the hanging bell and a subsquent crash from somewhere in the kitchen registered somewhere in the back of my mind as we stepped through the door.
Rows of booths in blues that complimented the smooth rust coloured walls (or what there was of them between the windows) were exactly as I remembered them, maybe a little more worn, but unmoved. It was the same with the long wooden bar and stainless stools, and the tables; each one topped with a band poster under a hard enamel surface. The carpet was new, sort of a giant collage of overlapping circles in soft coffeeshop colours. And everything was washed in a warm light, just bright enough.

The place was empty, save for a couple in the back, and the girl behind the counter; scrubbing invisible spots on the bar as she mouthed along to the Death Cab for Cutie song playing softly overhead.
Michael and I took a tiny table in the center of the room— one of two with a Delaney poster on top. The other was bigger— a corner booth in the back where we all used to sit.

"Wow." Was all I could say.

"Yeah." He echoed. And then there was silence again, except for a slow Beach Boys tune that made me smile; I traced the familiar lines of the poster on the tabletop with an almost transparent finger. "What?" Michael mirrored my almost-smile.

"This song." I smiled, hoping he would be the one to start the aforementioned 'talk'. "Mmm... It smells really good in here." The intoxicating aroma of the strong coffee the place was famous for had finally penetrated my not-quite-awakened senses.

"Yeah." He said again. More silence. Then: "They sure are taking their time sending a server, aren't they?"

"M-hm." I nodded. "Oh well. I don't really mind waiting— I mean, it's not like I have anywhere but home to go." That drew a smile. "So, um, what's up with everyone? How's everyone doing? I can't believe you guys don't come here anymore, do you all even talk?"

Michael just laughed at me. "That was a lot of questions." He said.

"I know." I shook my head. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Let's see..." He rubbed his chin. "Uh... let's do this backwards."

"Okay."

"All right, first; yes, we do talk. Just not as much as we used to. Second; as far as I know, everyone is fine. Uh... Third; Noah works at Hal's now, Darrin spends all his time in the Delaney Garage writing music, and - when she isn't with him - Nikki is working on finishing high school."

"Jeeze." I blinked a few times, still tracing the tabletop. Michael watched my finger for a few moments and I realised something. "What about Andy?"

"Uhm..." Michael mused, then sighed. "Honestly, I don't know, Marie. He left the band a while back and none of us really see much of him anymore."

"Wow." Again, it was all I could manage. Andy was one of the most passionate members of Delaney, family and band. "That's kind of weird." I continued, intelligently. "Who plays keys for you guys, then?"

"Nikki." he replied, and then, apparently in response to my telling expression. "Yeah, never would have guessed?"

"Nope, oh, no. Especially the way she idolized Darrin."

"Remember when she tried to have her hair cut like his?"

"Oh my gosh, yes." I laughed.

"Was it you who caught her at the barber shop before they started cutting?"

"Yeah, it was me." I recovered. "Kind of pointless though. Since she cut it herself that night."

We both laughed, probably louder than is proper in such a place. And suddenly we were just talking and laughing about all kinds of things we used to do— until the server finally came.