It was a weekend cradled in gentle breezes. Sunlight filtered through thin clouds, tenderly spilling over every corner of the city to gild all things in a warm golden hue. I met him at that café on the street corner, where the latte was said to have a unique, rich aroma—much like the feelings slowly fermenting between us, pure and enchanting. Half an hour early, I stood before the café’s window. My reflection showed hair fluttering in the wind, my heart as unruly yet expectant as those strands. Warm yellow light from inside spilled onto the sidewalk through the glass, weaving patches of cozy glow. Watching my shadow dance in the light, I smiled involuntarily, envisioning the moment he’d appear.
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