=::= Krissy's PoV =::=

"Thank you," I smiled politely as I finished cashing out one of my tables. "Have a great day, and drive safe out there!"

The middle-aged man nodded as he tucked his credit card and the receipt into his wallet. It was another family, five of them this time. Mom and dad plus three kids. Although one of them was an older teen, probably only a few years younger than me. I was sure he'd scoff at being referred to as a kid.

I headed back to the register and waited as they all got bundled up, then after they were gone I'd clear the table and get it ready for the next group. According to the clock on the register it was a quarter past twelve, and it seemed like we'd finally got through the worst it. At least there weren't any more families or groups waiting impatiently just inside the door while they watched for signs that a table was about to open up.

"How are you doing Krissy?" Maureen asked quietly as she joined me next to the register. "You about ready for a break?"

I grimaced slightly, "That sounds nice, but I don't need one yet. What about you? You haven't taken a break and you've been at it since before I got here this morning."

The older woman shrugged, "I'm used to this kind of thing dear, it's just another day for me. But if you're sure, then after those folks have left why don't you go give your dad a hand in the kitchen? There's a growing stack of dishes back there, and that's one more table's worth you'll be adding to the pile."

"Ok Maureen," I nodded. "I'm pretty sure I still remember how to run the machine."

She smiled, "Good girl. I figured you'd know how to handle it."

That put a smile on my face as well, and I found myself thinking about how much my opinion of the older waitress had turned around in only a couple hours. Not only had she apologized for her initial reaction when I first came in the door, but she'd been going out of her way to make sure I felt safe and accepted. Even little comments like that 'good girl' really meant a lot to me.

It took another minute or two for the family of five to finally clear off, then once they were out the door I moved in with my tray and started clearing the table. After four or five hours I was almost moving on autopilot. Stack the dishes cutlery and cups on my tray, give the table a wipe-down, then back to the kitchen to unload. Uneaten food and trash went in the bin, then there were special plastic dishwasher racks for everything else. Cutlery stood up in one, plates on their edge in the next, and cups upside-down in the third.

Except the washer racks were full so the last half hour or so Maureen and I had just been stacking everything on the counter next to the dishwasher. That's what happened when the place was too busy for anyone to take a few minutes to run the racks through the machine. It also meant our supply of clean dishes and cutlery was getting dangerously low.

So after unloading my tray I stepped around the counter and slid the first loaded rack into the big industrial-grade machine. It rumbled to life automatically, jets of heated soapy water started blasting as it slowly pulled the big plastic rack inside.

"Thank's for taking care of that Krissy!" dad said over the noise of the machine. "I'm getting a bit desperate for dishes over here."

"I was trying to stay ontop of it myself, but it got away from me in the last hour or so thanks to the steady flow of tickets," he added.

"You're welcome dad," I responded without looking, as I grabbed an empty rack off the floor. I started loading it from the stack of plates on the counter, so by the time the first one had fully entered the machine I was ready to feed the next one in.

While I remained focused on the dishwasher dad asked, "Is it finally getting quieter out front?"

"Not exactly," I replied as I moved another rack into position at the front of the machine. "Maureen thought it was quiet enough for me to take a break, but I didn't want to stop yet. So she suggested I help out back here with the dishes while she covers the dining room."

Dad laughed, "That's Maureen for you. Looking out for the both of us."

A moment later he tapped the bell with his spatula, while I continued loading dirty dishes into racks and racks into the machine. I made sure to alternate, two loads of plates then one of cutlery and one of cups and glasses.

While I was doing that Maureen came in to collect the order. She commented, "Next rack of cutlery comes out of that thing, we need it up front pronto. We're getting desperate for cups too."

"I'm on it," I replied without looking again.

After another minute or two I looked over and found the machine had already pushed a couple racks of dishes out the back end. They were clean, dry, and piping hot. So I quickly washed and dried my hands then moved over and started unloading them.

It didn't take long to empty out the first one, then the rack went out of the way, on the floor under the counter. Finally I picked up the stack of clean plates and carefully turned to carry them over to the stand next to dad and his grill. And that's when I nearly dropped the whole thing.

Dad was focused on the next set of orders like usual, but something very strange had happened in the last ten or twelve minutes. I was positive his short salt-and-pepper hair had grown a few centimetres longer, and a lot darker. In contrast the beard-shadow on his face was almost imperceptible, along with the dark hairs on his arms. He'd rolled up his sleeves earlier, and now his forearms appeared smooth and hairless.

"Dad?" I asked as I set the plates down next to him. "Are you ok? What's going on?"

He glanced at me and grinned as I set the plates down, "Ah perfect! Thanks hon!"

"And I'm fine, why do you ask?" he added as he used his spatula to carefully turn over another order of eggs on the grill.

I stared for another couple seconds then finally shook my head. I decided it had to be my imagination. He probably started using one of those 'just for men' hair products that hid the grey. And maybe he was a little more careful this morning when he shaved. I convinced myself that I just didn't notice before, between being tired then being busy and learning on the job.

Then again there was also the fact that I'd only had three hours sleep the night before, so it really wasn't a big surprise that I wasn't more observant earlier on.

I finally moved back to the dishwasher and started unloading the next rack of plates, "I guess it's nothing. I'm glad you feel ok dad."

"How about you hon?" he asked as he started assembling the next set of orders. "I know you said you didn't need a break, but you've been on your feet non-stop for a while now."

"I'll be fine," I told him as I brought another big stack of plates over and added them to the ones already waiting next to the grill.

Sorting the cutlery took less than a minute, then I carried that and a rack of glasses through to the dining room. They both went behind the counter out front. And by that point I realized my empty table had already been filled and there was more work to be done.

It was busy bordering on hectic again from that point on, as the lunch rush got into full swing. Fortunately it wasn't as bad as the earlier crowd, plus by that point I'd kind of got into the rhythm of it all. So I took care of my tables, monitored the coffee machines to ensure we never ran out, and even found a half minute here and there to run a few more racks through the dishwasher again.

Meanwhile Maureen was still looking after most of the tables, she had more than twice as many of them than what I was tending to. And she still stepped in to help me out now and then, when I was distracted or doing dishes back in the kitchen. Almost everything went smoothly as we worked through it all, except one nagging little thing.

Over the next hour I kept noticing little things about my dad, that almost left me questioning my grip on reality. I didn't say anything but I knew I was seeing things. I had no idea why I was only hallucinating when I looked at my dad, but I figured it was because of being overworked and overtired. There really wasn't any other explanation.

In the hour or so after I first noticed his hair seemed different there were a handful of other strange details I picked out, one at a time. Like whenever I was back in the kitchen I'd spot something else that seemed to have changed about him.

It started with his hair, all the grey faded until it was jet-black like my own. It also seemed to grow, until it was down past his shoulders. Meanwhile his dark whiskers and the hairs on his arms seemed to fade away entirely, leaving his skin looking soft and smooth.

The next thing was his clothes, somehow it looked like they were way too big on him. Like he had to keep rolling up his sleeves, and I saw him stumble once as if his shoes didn't fit right. Plus he must have started slouching at some point this morning, because there was simply no possible way my dad could have become shorter than me.

Back in my late teens I got within two centimetres of him before I stopped growing, and I knew I wasn't getting any taller now. Yet the last two times I went into the kitchen it somehow seemed as if dad was a dozen centimetres shorter. At one point I even glanced over the counter to get a better look at him, only to see the cuffs of his baggy white pants were bunched up around his ankles and over his obviously oversized shoes.

By that point the only thing keeping me quiet was the fact that neither dad or Maureen had said anything. Which meant it had to be all in my head or something. That worried me, but I figured I could keep going. Another hour, then dad would probably close the doors and I could relax. I figured I'd sleep like a log tonight, then tomorrow me and dad would laugh as I told him about all the weird things I'd been imagining today.

Back out in the dining room I was at the register putting in my latest table's orders when Maureen moved up alongside me.

"Everything ok there Krissy?" she asked quietly. "Did another one of the customers say something to upset you?"

I shook my head, "No I'm fine. Why, what's wrong?"

"I just noticed you seem a little quieter lately dear," she replied. "Are you sure you don't want to take a break?"

Once I finished entering the order I looked up and glanced at my tables, then finally looked to Maureen. And I was tempted to say something, to ask if she'd noticed anything up with my dad. Except I really didn't want her to think I was crazy. Obviously nothing was up with dad, and the fact that she noticed I was acting weird while not saying anything about him only reinforced that it had to be all in my head.

I finally gave her a weak smile as I explained, "Lack of sleep's starting to catch up to me. I'll be fine though, I can make it through until closing. It should only be another half hour or so, right?"

She watched me for another second or two before nodding, "All right dear. Don't push too hard though, ok? If you need a break or you have to stop just say the word. I should be able to handle it from here."

I was about to thank her when I heard a faint ding-ding from the kitchen. So I gave her another weak smile as I started moving, "That'll be table four. Anyways I'll be fine Maureen, thanks for asking though."

Sure enough there were three plates waiting for me under the hot-lamp. One grand slam special, one cheeseburger with home-fries, and a kid's combo scrambled with a slice of ham. I started loading them onto my tray when dad turned around, and I nearly dropped the kid's meal as I found myself staring wide-eyed at my father's face.

Now ontop of everything else he looked younger. He actually looked more like my age now, like he could almost pass for my brother. Or... Actually no. He didn't just look younger, the shape of his face had changed too.

It was subtle, but his eyes and cheekbones were slightly different. His nose was smaller, while his lips seemed wider and fuller. I didn't even know whether to feel shocked, jealous, or just plain confused as it hit me.

My dad looked like he could pass for my small cute sister.

"Hey Krissy," dad addressed me, while my gut lurched once more.

Now I was hearing things too, dad's voice sounded like it had gone up in pitch. He had the kind of effortlessly passing voice I always wished for. Then it hit me, it's like everything I was hallucinating about my dad was stuff I'd wished about for myself.

The smaller more feminine frame. The pretty face, with no trace of beard. The smaller nose, the different voice. A glance at his hands confirmed even they seemed smaller and more delicate now. Same with his wrists and arms. I felt incredibly self-conscious as my eyes flicked to his chest just incase. And sure enough, despite his shirt being way too big and loose on him, I could still make out the two pert mounds just barely hidden beneath the white cotton fabric.

"Uh yeah dad?" I asked as I stood there half-frozen. I was still staring at him, my tray balanced on my left hand and the kid's combo plate in my right. "What can I do for you?"

Dad grimaced as he ran a small delicate hand over his head and back through his long silky black hair. Then he looked up at me and asked, "This is going to sound kind of crazy, but do you have an extra hair tie I can borrow?"

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