By Thursday, the town had fallen back into its usual rhythm — the low hum of morning traffic, the smell of roasted coffee from the corner shop, and the chatter of neighbors exchanging weather updates on the sidewalk.
Hannah stood behind the counter, pouring milk into a customer's latte, but her mind wasn't fully on the task. Every small thing reminded her of Emma — the paint smudge on her own sleeve, the stack of flyers for the art show pinned to the corkboard, even the song playing softly through the speakers.
When the rush slowed, she found herself glancing toward the mural outside the shop — the one Emma had been helping her restore. It had become more than paint and color now. It felt like a map of everything that had changed.
She didn't expect Emma to walk in that afternoon. But she did — hair tied back, coat open, the faintest grin tugging at her mouth.
"Hey," Emma said, leaning on the counter. "Miss me?"
Hannah laughed before she could stop herself. "You're supposed to be at the community center."
"Finished early." Emma's voice dropped, playful but soft. "Figured I'd stop by and ruin your productivity."
Hannah rolled her eyes, but she couldn't fight the smile that broke through. "You're doing an excellent job of it."
They talked in those quiet tones that only people hiding something good can manage — the kind of secret that feels too precious to expose.
When Emma left, she didn't touch her, didn't say anything out loud. But as the door closed, Hannah found herself tracing the shape of Emma's grin in her mind, like a secret sketch she wasn't ready to share yet.
That night, Hannah sat by the mural after closing, a cup of tea cooling in her hands. The street was empty, the air carrying the faint scent of rain again.
For the first time in a long while, she wasn't waiting for something to go wrong. She just let the quiet fill her, steady and full.