I arrive at the coffee shop fifteen minutes early.
It's a small place in a neighborhood I don't know. Not trendy. Not expensive. Just real. The kind of place where people actually live their lives instead of performing them.
I order tea I won't drink and sit by the window, watching people pass. Families. Couples. People who aren't standing at the edge of something impossible.
At exactly 2 PM, Lucien walks in.
He's wearing the same worn jacket from the grocery store. His hair is slightly damp like he just showered. He looks nervous. Beautiful. Real.
Our eyes meet. Neither of us moves for a moment.
Then he crosses the room and sits across from me. No hello. No small talk. Just sits there, hands on the table, looking at me like he's trying to memorize my face.
"Hi," I manage.
"Hi."
S
