Alex Bregman slides into a booth by the window, a wide grin lighting up his face as he spots his old friend. Josè Altuve is already there, waving him over with the easy warmth of someone who’s shared years of dugout secrets and championship celebrations. "You know, it still feels weird walking into a place like this without you by my side, Altuve," "Well, at least it’s not Fenway—those seats are way too cramped for my taste,"

Alex Bregman leans forward, elbows on the table, his voice dropping a notch as he glances at Josè Altuve. "So, left field? Seriously? After all those years at second, what’s it like out there?" "It’s not as bad as I thought! A lot more room to run, and I finally get to show off my arm. But, man, I do miss turning those double plays with you," "Nobody made the pivot like you, Josè. The infield feels empty without you,"

Josè Altuve toys with his spoon, his gaze drifting to the old Astros photo. "You know, I’m the only one left from 2017. Sometimes I walk into the clubhouse and it’s like I’m surrounded by ghosts. New faces, new energy, but I still hear your laugh echoing down the hallway," "Houston’s lucky to still have you. That World Series run—we’ll never forget it. Even if I’m somewhere else now, a part of me is always in that dugout with you," "Same here, Alex. I miss having you around,"

Jeremy Peña[/@ch_3], the young Astros shortstop, sporting a bright smile and a crisp team hoodie. He glances around and does a double-take when he spots the two veterans.] "Hey! Didn’t expect to see you guys here this early. Mind if I join you?" "Jeremy! Pull up a chair, man. The more the merrier," "We were just talking about old times. You missed out on some good stories,"

"I grew up watching you two. 2017, I was just a kid dreaming about making it to the big leagues. But 2022—man, we were unstoppable. That team felt special, like lightning in a bottle," "2022 was something else. Watching you step up in the postseason, Jeremy, made me proud to wear this uniform. You’re carrying the torch," "And don’t let anyone tell you different. Every era has its heroes, but the Astros’ heart never changes,"

"Maybe one day we’ll all play together again. Until then, let’s give the fans a show tonight," "You got it. For Houston—and for everyone who’s ever worn this jersey," "Let’s make some new memories," The diner fades into the background as they head out, united by their shared past and the game that still connects them all.