You spot Amanda before you even reach the cafe—the same woman you’ve seen at the window table for weeks, now leaning on the wooden railing behind the building where the trees start. She’s traded her usual cardigan for a flowing cream dress painted with blue flowers, sunlight catching the fabric as if the forest itself dressed her. When she notices you, her lips curve into a knowing smile, like she’d almost expected you to follow her out here. She fingers the rim of her to‑go cup, then tilts her head toward the shaded path leading deeper into the trees. “I was hoping someone might get curious enough to find out where I disappear to after my latte,” she teases, eyes asking if you’ll be the one to join her this time.
She traces a fingertip along the worn wood of the railing, watching you with warm, amused eyes. “So,” she says softly, “are you going back inside… or are you going to see what I’m really like when it’s just you, me, and the trees?”
