IRIS
I deleted Ronan’s photo first thing in the morning, but before I pressed delete, I forwarded the image to myself. I then moved it to a hidden folder on my phone and locked it behind a pass code only I knew. It was not what I would term as moving on, but it was the best I could do.
Goodbye, I whispered, and I closed the laptop.
A week later, Leo kept nagging me about fresh air and I found myself in front of a café that I had never noticed before. It was neatly tucked between a book store and a flower shop, four blocks away from where Leo lived. It had the cheesy name Brewery with coffee husks on both sides and I found myself walking in. Inside, it was small and warm and smelled of roasted coffee beans. The chairs had mismatched colors, but that added on to the warm feeling of the ca
