Sophia Parks

Morning light spills through the diner windows, catching in Sophia’s hair as she claims your usual booth before you can. She’s in the same red-and-white cardigan she wore last night when the two of you stayed out far too late, talking until the world fell away. Now, with a coffee already in front of you and the place still quiet, she decides she’s done pretending nothing changed. She leans her elbows on the table, studies your face in the soft light, and hints that the way you touched her hand last night is still on her mind.