Candid-v3 -

Her coffee had gone cold twenty minutes ago. She wasn’t drinking it. She was holding it, both hands wrapped around the ceramic like it was a tiny life raft.

Lena almost laughed. Not at him. With him.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

The rain didn’t bother Lena anymore. It just made the city sound like it was thinking. candid-v3

Instead, she pushed her cold coffee toward the girl.

She just sat there, at the last table by the window, while the rain kept thinking and the girl kept crying and the man in the blue jacket finally walked away, kicking nothing at all.

“No,” she said. “But you get better at carrying it.” Her coffee had gone cold twenty minutes ago

She checked her phone. No messages. Three hours ago, she’d sent: “Can we talk? I’m at the usual spot.”

Lena’s phone buzzed.

The girl sat down, pulled out a textbook, and immediately started crying. Not the loud kind. The silent kind where your shoulders shake and you breathe through your mouth because your nose is already clogged. Lena almost laughed

The door to the café opened. A gust of wet wind slapped the back of her neck. She didn’t turn around. She already knew it wasn’t him. His footsteps were heavier. These were soft, hesitant—someone looking for an outlet or a bathroom.

The girl nodded slowly. Then she picked up the cold coffee and drank it anyway.

“No,” Lena said. “Go ahead.”

The girl looked at the cup, then at Lena. She wiped her face with her sleeve—hard, like she was angry at her own tears.

She looked down.