The steady murmur of voices and the occasional crackle of announcements echoed through Charlotte Douglas International Airport. It was just past 9:00 a.m. and gate B12 was unusually calm for a Tuesday morning outside the floor toseeiling windows, planes rolled along the tarmac, their white wings gleaming under the Carolina sun.
James Lucas sat with his legs crossed, suit jacket folded neatly over his lap, a black Samsonite carry-on resting by his feet. He checked his watch for the fifth time in 3 minutes. The flight to Seattle wasn’t boarding yet, and the delay was already gnoring at his nerves. He took a slow breath and adjusted his wire- rimmed glasses. He didn’t have time for delays. Not today.
His mind flicked to the slim leather folder tucked inside his bag, containing years of work, the research documents, the presentation slides, and the legal forms, all necessary for the lifealtering meeting scheduled the next morning. If this pitch landed, he could finally break away from the shadow of his late father’s bitterness and build something of his own. He had to get there on time.
Across from him, a young woman sank into the empty seat with a sigh, her curly hair pulled back into a high puff. She wore a bright yellow hoodie, leggings, and white sneakers. Her skin glowed against the sunlight streaming in from the windows. In her hand was a boarding pass for a flight to Austin, Texas.

She glanced around briefly, her eyes landing on James before offering a polite smile. “Morning,” she said. James looked up, startled. “Oh, morning.” The woman placed her identical black samsonite beside her. Pulling out her phone, he tried not to stare, but he noticed the little things, her chipped pink nail polish, the way she hummed under her breath, the deep sadness hidden behind her friendly eyes.
Angela Basset, 28, newly single and running on 2 hours of sleep, had officially left everything behind in Charlotte. her ex- fiance’s betrayal, her dead-end job, the apartment that held too many memories. It was all part of a closed chapter. Austin was her fresh start.
Her cousin had offered her a room until she got back on her feet, and she’d accepted without hesitation. She didn’t notice the man beside her looking her way now and then. She was too busy scrolling through her phone, trying to drown out her thoughts, but something about sitting beside a quiet stranger felt oddly comforting. After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again. “Heading somewhere important,” James raised a brow.
“He wasn’t used to small talk, especially not with strangers.” “Seattle,” he replied, keeping his tone neutral. “Business trip.” She nodded. “Nice. I’m going to Austin. Starting over, I guess.” Something about the way she said it, quiet, almost wistful, made him glance over.
“Starting over?” Angela looked at him, considering whether to say more, but there was something in his expression, perhaps curiosity, or maybe it was understanding, that made her go on, “Yeah, life didn’t turn out the way I planned, so hitting the reset button, James nodded slowly. I get that.” She smiled faintly. Sometimes a plane ticket is cheaper than therapy. He let out a soft, unexpected laugh. True.
They lapsed back into silence. But the silence wasn’t awkward. It was filled with mutual recognition. Two strangers, both carrying invisible baggage, sitting side by side in an airport neither really wanted to be in. Over the intercom, a voice announced, “Flight 2376 to Seattle now boarding at gate B12, boarding group A, please proceed.” James stood quickly, reaching for his bag.

His phone buzzed, a call from his attorney. He grabbed the phone with one hand and his bag with the other, nodding politely to Angela. “Nice meeting you. You, too,” she replied, already half lost in her thoughts again. He didn’t notice the identical bag by her feet. And in his rush, neither did she.
Within moments, he had disappeared into the boarding tunnel. Angela leaned back in her chair, stretching a little before sipping from her water bottle. Her flight wouldn’t start boarding for another 20 minutes. She checked her emails, then her messages. A photo popped up, her and Marcus taken a year ago.
She deleted it without hesitation. Flight 1463 to Austin now boarding at gate B12. Group A, please proceed. She stood, reached down for her bag, and joined the line. No one stopped her. No one noticed the switch. Hours later, Angela stepped into her new apartment in East.
Austin, a cozy two-bedroom unit with light green walls and worn wood floors. Her cousin had left a welcome note and some snacks on the kitchen counter. Grateful and tired, Angela dropped her purse and stretched. She wheeled her suitcase into the bedroom. Kicked off her shoes and opened the bag. The first thing she saw was a white button-down shirt and a navy tie. Confused, she dug deeper.
No makeup bag, no jeans, no yellow hoodie, no toothbrush. Then she found the folder. Inside was a stack of medical research documents, diagrams, a flash drive, and a business card that read James Lucas, biomedical consultant, Seattle, WA. Her heart sank. Seriously? She sat back on the floor, pressing her hand to her forehead.
A mistake like this on any other day might have made her laugh, but today it just felt like the universe’s final joke. Meanwhile, over 2,000 mi away in Seattle, James paced his hotel room in a panic. He had called his assistant, turned the room upside down, even called the airline. His entire future, his hard work, his credibility was gone.
In its place, a bundle of women’s clothes, hair products, a romance novel, and a handwritten journal that read, “Dear future me.” Then his phone rang. Unknown number. He hesitated, then answered. “Hello.” “Hi, I think I have your suitcase.” There was a pause. “Are you are you the woman from the gate?” I think so, Angela said. Yellow hoodie, Austin bound. He sighed in relief. Yes, that’s God. Thank you. I found your business card in the folder.
You’ve got some pretty important stuff in here. He swallowed hard. Yeah, I was supposed to present that tomorrow. Well, you won’t be doing that with my hoodie and hair gel. Despite the situation, James chuckled. You’re right. I can ship it back, she offered. Overnight, of course. No, he said quickly. No, I I’ll come to Austin myself.
I can’t risk it getting lost again. Angela blinked. You’d fly here just for this? It’s that important. There was a long pause. Okay, she said finally. I’ll be here. They hung up. Angela sat quietly for a while, the suitcase open beside her. She glanced again at the folder, then at the business card. James Lucas.
She hadn’t expected anything to follow her to Austin, but apparently some baggage was determined to find its way back. The Texas sun beamed through the blinds of Angela’s bedroom the next morning, casting warm stripes of light across the pale walls. She hadn’t slept much. Her mind was too full. The suitcase sat still by the closet, zipped now, with James Lucas’s precious documents safely back in place.

Angela stirred her coffee and stared at the phone on the kitchen counter. He had said he’d be catching a morning flight to Austin. She had offered to meet him at the airport, but he had declined. “I’ll come to you. Just send me the address,” he had said, his voice tense, but composed. She didn’t know why she’d agreed.
Maybe it was guilt for having his bag. Or curiosity. Or maybe deep down she didn’t mind seeing him again. She looked at her reflection in the hallway mirror, still in pajamas, hair in a messy puff, no makeup, no expectations, just a girl who had run from heartbreak and ended up entangled with a complete stranger because of a bag.
3 hours later, James stood outside Angela’s apartment complex in East Austin, holding his rental car keys and adjusting his collar. He had barely slept either. His mind wasn’t only on the documents, though they were important, but on the woman who had them, Angela Basset. He didn’t know her well, barely at all really, but their brief encounter at the gate had stayed with him in a way he hadn’t expected.
Her calm presence, her disarming honesty, and now her voice lingered in his head, even more than the panic of almost losing his work. He climbed the stairs and found apartment 3C. Took a breath, then knocked. The door opened. Angela wore a simple white tea and blue jeans, her hair down and wow like a halo around her soft face.
She looked at him really looked at him and smiled. You made it. I did. She stepped aside and let him in. The place smelled faintly of vanilla and coffee. The suitcase sat by the couch untouched since last night. There it is, she said, nodding toward it. your baby. James walked to the bag and opened it carefully, almost reverently.
He flipped through the folder. The documents, flash drive, printed charts, everything was intact. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Thank you,” he said softly. Angela nodded. “You’re lucky I didn’t toss it. I thought it was some creep’s bag at first,” he smiled faintly.
“And I thought I’d never see it again. They stood there for a beat. silence just enough to make them aware of how strange and intimate this moment was. You want coffee? She asked, breaking the pause. I just made some. James hesitated, then nodded. Sure, if it’s not too much trouble. They sat at the kitchen counter, two steaming mugs between them, so Angela began.
What’s in those documents anyway? Looks intense. James sipped slowly. It’s a proposal for a biomedical research project. I’ve been developing a device that could detect early signs of neurological disorders, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, stuff like that. Angela raised her eyebrows. Wow, that’s amazing. He shrugged. It’s just work. No, it’s not.
That’s important work. My grandmother had Alzheimer’s. Watching her forget us, it was hard. James looked up, something shifting behind his eyes. My mother, too. She passed when I was 14. Angela’s heart tugged. “I’m sorry,” he nodded. “It’s why I do what I do, I guess. Try to fix what couldn’t be fixed for her.” Angela leaned back, her voice soft.
“Funny how grief shapes our purpose.” They sat in silence again. “Comfortable this time, the kind of quiet that only comes from two people who understand loss.” James looked down at his coffee. “You said yesterday, you’re starting over?” Angela chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, Charlotte got too heavy.
left a relationship that should have ended a long time ago. He cheated. I stayed. Then he did it again. I left. James nodded slowly. People who betrayed trust. I don’t understand it. Angela studied him. You ever been in love? He laughed once. A short sharp sound. No, not really. She tilted her head. Not even a high school sweetheart. He shook his head. I grew up thinking love was get foolish.
My dad used to say love was a weakness. That emotions cloud judgment. I guess I believed him. Angela smirked. Sounds like your dad had issues. He did, James said simply. A lot of them. They both chuckled. You don’t seem that way now, she said. James met her eyes. No. No. You’re careful. Yeah.
A little emotionally allergic, but not broken. That surprised him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him and not seen his walls. Angela stood and rinsed her cup. Anyway, I’m glad you got your bag back. Hope your meeting goes well. He nodded, reluctantly, rising from his seat. I should head out. The next flight to Seattle leaves in a few hours.
She walked him to the door. As he stepped outside, he turned back. Thank you again for not just keeping it, but being decent about it. Angela shrugged. It’s what decent people do. James hesitated. Maybe I can return the favor someday. Angela smiled. “Sure, if I ever lose a suitcase full of dreams, I’ll give you a call.
” He chuckled and just before he turned to leave, he said, “Angela? Yeah, I’m glad we sat next to each other.” She blinked. “Me, too.” And then he was gone. That night, Angela curled up on the couch, staring at the folder she had briefly possessed. A piece of a stranger’s life now returned. But the man behind the folder, quiet, thoughtful, maybe a little broken, had left an impression she hadn’t expected.
Meanwhile, in a Seattle hotel room, James lay on the bed, the folder beside him, but his thoughts not on the meeting ahead. They were on a woman in Austin who wore yellow hoodies and made strangers feel safe. He picked up his phone. “Hey,” he typed, just wanted to say, “You make good coffee and better conversation.
” He stared at the message, then hit send. Angela’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, cutting through the quiet hum of her small Austin apartment. She glanced at it, expecting a promotional text or some distant friend checking in, but instead she saw the name she’d saved just yesterday, James Lucas. Just wanted to say you make good coffee and better conversation.
She blinked, a slow, surprised smile spreading across her face. She typed back quickly. Thank you. Most people don’t survive my strong brew. You must be built different. A moment passed before his reply came. Maybe I am. Or maybe it’s the company that made it easier to drink. Angela let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.
This wasn’t flirting, was it? It didn’t feel like it. It felt like something gentler, warmer, like kindness wrapped in curiosity. 3 weeks later, their text exchange hadn’t stopped after that first message. Every evening, Angela would curl up on the couch after work, phone in hand, as she and James messaged or facetimed.
What started as brief chats turned into long late night conversations about everything, from childhood dreams to the reasons they didn’t trust easily. James, still in Seattle, was navigating the aftermath of his presentation. It had gone well, better than expected, even. And yet, in quiet moments, his mind often wandered back to Austin. Angela was honest, blunt sometimes, but never cruel.
She had a way of asking questions that cut right to the truth, like she could see the things. He tried to hide behind long silences and logic. Angela, too, felt the shift happening. She hadn’t meant to connect with anyone so deeply again. After Marcus, she’d sworn off romance. No more wasted emotions.
No more bending to make someone else comfortable. But James wasn’t demanding anything from her. He didn’t ask for attention or affection. He was just there, present, reliable, curious. It scared her how much that meant. One Thursday night, James called instead of texting. Angela picked up on the second ring. Hey, everything okay? His voice was softer than usual.
Yeah, I just I was wondering if I could come back to Austin. Not for the bag this time, she paused. Why? There was a beat of silence. because I want to see you and because something about that visit stayed with me more than it should have. Angela’s chest tightened. That’s honest. I’m trying to be okay, she whispered. Come. Saturday afternoon.
Angela stood outside the art market near South Congress, her sundress swaying in the breeze. The smell of roasted nuts and kettle corn drifted through the air, mixing with the buzz of music and laughter. James arrived wearing jeans, a light button-down shirt, and an anxious smile. He looked different outside the airport and hotel rooms, more relaxed, even a little shy.
“You made it,” Angela said as he approached. “I did,” he glanced around. “Austin looks good on you,” she laughed. “So does sunshine on your face. You’re not nearly as pale today.” They wandered the market, stopping to look at paintings, handcrafted jewelry, and local street performers. It felt easy, surprisingly easy, like they’d done this before.
At one point, Angela held up a painting of a tree split in two by lightning. The branches on each side grew away from the crack, reaching out like hands missing each other. “This one feels familiar,” she said. James studied it. Yeah, it looks like people trying to reconnect after being broken.
They didn’t say more, but the silence between them said enough. That evening, they returned to her apartment, take away food in hand. They ate on the balcony, legs stretched out, stars flickering above them. James looked over at her. Can I ask you something? Sh. Why do you think we’re drawn to people even when we’ve been hurt? Angela leaned back, her eyes thoughtful.
Because even broken people still want to be seen. And sometimes someone comes along who doesn’t flinch at our cracks. James exhaled slowly. My father told me love makes men weak. That it destroys logic and focus. Do you still believe that? She asked. He shook his head. I used to. I lived by it. But you He stopped. You make me question things I thought were unshakable. Angela’s heart fluttered.
She wasn’t used to men being this raw, this vulnerable. Not anymore. Can I tell you something, too? She said anything. I didn’t want to fall for anyone ever again. I didn’t want to believe in second chances or kismmet or meant to be.
But then you sat next to me at that gate and for the first time in a long time I felt like I could breathe around someone. James swallowed. So what does that mean? She looked at him. It means I’m scared but I don’t want to run. He reached out slowly, fingers brushing hers. I’m scared too, he said, but I’m still here. their fingers intertwined, simple and quiet.
No fireworks, just a slow, aching tenderness that felt more real than anything loud or fast. A week later, Angela walked into her kitchen one morning to find a small box on her counter. She hadn’t heard James leave it. He’d caught an early flight back to Seattle just the day before. Inside was a smaller, lighter replica of the Samsonite bag. A note lay tucked inside.
for the day we carry something together. On purpose this time, J. Angela pressed the card to her chest and laughed through the tears. Forming in her eyes this man, this strange guarded beautiful man. He was falling, and somehow so was she. Autumn was quietly settling over Austin. The leaves on the trees outside.
Angela’s apartment tinged with orange, and the air carrying that crisp bite that whispered change was coming. Angela sat at her window one evening, watching the light fade as she reread James’s last message. There’s something about you that softens the sharpest parts of my life. I didn’t know it was possible.
She hadn’t responded yet, not because she didn’t know what to say, but because it scared her how deeply his words touched her. Every message they exchanged, every call, every visit had pulled her closer to something she swore she wasn’t ready for.
But wasn’t that always the case with things that mattered most? Their visits became more frequent, every other weekend then nearly every weekend. James began splitting his time between Seattle and Austin, flying in late Friday nights and leaving early Monday mornings. Their time together was stolen and sacred, wrapped in laughter, quiet talks, and long walks through the city. He had a favorite routine now, waking up before Angela and brewing her coffee, just the way she liked it, dark with a dash of cinnamon and almond milk. You’re learning,” she teased him one morning, sipping it. “I’m a fast learner when it
matters,” he replied. James had never done this before. “Not the texting, not the frequent flying, not the emotional investment.” He had always lived life compartmentalized. Logic in one box, emotions in another, never letting one bleed into the other. But Angela, she didn’t just slip into his life. She cracked it open, and through those cracks, light poured in.
At night when he was back in Seattle, he found himself writing not emails, not documents, but letters to her. Letters he never sent. Dear Angela, you asked me once if I’ve ever been in love. I told you no, but if what I feel when I think of you is anything close to it. Then maybe I’ve been wrong all along. He kept them in a small notebook. Maybe one day he’d give them to her. Maybe not.
But writing them made him feel human. One evening in Austin, as they sat under fairy lights at a rooftop bar, Angela looked at him over the rim of her glass. “Have you ever thought about staying?” he blinked. “Staying in Austin,” she clarified. “Permanently?” James looked out over the skyline, then back at her.
“I think about it more than I should.” Angela bit her lip. “I don’t want to pressure you. I just I’ve gotten used to you being here.” I’ve gotten used to being here, he said, reaching for her hand. With you, she looked at him. Then why are we still playing this like it’s temporary? James went quiet.
The truth was fear still lingered. He’d spent so much of his life, convinced love was a trapper. Lie dressed up as something beautiful. But Angela had undone that belief slowly, piece by piece, until all that was left was truth. He wanted her. Not just on weekends, not just in between flights, he squeezed her hand. Maybe it’s time I stop flying away.
A week later, James tendered his resignation from his Seattle firm. He accepted a remote role with another company based out of Austin. The decision wasn’t easy, but when he hit send on the email, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years. Relief. That night, he called Angela. I’m coming home, he said.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, then softly. Home? He smiled. Yeah, you’re starting to feel like it. Living together didn’t happen right away. Angela was cautious. She told him, “I like my space. I like knowing I can breathe on my own.” James respected that. But he was there more and more cooking dinner, fixing broken things, feeding her ideas for her new freelance writing gig.
They moved around each other like people who’d been doing it forever. And then one lazy Sunday morning, she found the notebook. It had fallen out of his bag when he set it down in the living room, Angela picked it up without thinking, flipping to the first page. Dear Angela, I don’t know what it is about you, but you calm something inside me. Like you’re a language I forgot I knew. Like you make silence feel full instead of empty.
Her breath caught. You are not what I expected. And thank God for that because what I expected was safe. You are everything but safe. You’re honest and wild and brave. And I think I’m learning how to be brave just by loving you. Angela sat on the couch, notebook open, heart thudding in her chest.
James came in from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. He froze when he saw what she was holding. I didn’t mean to snoop, she said quickly. It just fell out. He set the mugs down and sat beside her. It’s okay. I wasn’t hiding it. I just wasn’t sure if I was ready to say it all out loud. She turned to him, eyes soft.
You love me? I do, he said, no hesitation. I think I’ve loved you since the airport. I just didn’t know what to call it then. Tears welled in her eyes. I’ve been scared. Every time this got more real, I wanted to run. I know, he said. But you didn’t. And neither did I. Angela closed the notebook gently. Do you want to move in? He blinked.
Are you serious? I am, she said. Because I’m done running and I’m done pretending this is temporary. James smiled so wide his face achd. Then yes, I’d love that. They moved in together the following month. Not everything was perfect. James was obsessively neat. Angela left hair products all over the bathroom. He liked silence in the mornings.
She liked blasting old school R&B, but somehow their differences didn’t clash. They danced. They spent evenings building IKEA furniture, laughing when they failed. They cooked dinner together, read books in bed, made space for one another’s scars, and through it all. They kept writing notes, letters, texts, words that reminded each other, “I’m here. I choose you.” One evening, James returned from a quick work trip.
As he unpacked, he looked over at Angela, curled up on the couch in her pajamas. I still check my bag every time I fly, he said, grinning. Angela laughed. Just in case you swap with a stranger again. Exactly. She got up and walked over to him. Well, I’m glad you picked up mine that day. He held her close. Me, too. It was the best mistake I ever made.
Spring unfolded in Austin like a love letter, warm, blooming, unapologetically alive. The trees swayed with new leaves. Street performers sang on every corner, and the city pulsed with the kind of quiet magic only people in love seem to notice.
James Lucas had been living in Angela’s apartment for 4 months now, though it felt longer in the best way, like time had folded in on itself, rushing to make up for years they had spent not knowing each other. Their life was full of the ordinary and the extraordinary. Grocery runs turned into deep conversations.
Lazy Sundays turned into impromptu road trips, and every now and then they’d still sit together on the couch and joke, “Remember when you stole my bag?” But James remembered more than that. He remembered who he was before her. A man who thought love was for the weak, for the foolish. A man who saw relationships like a minefield, not a home.
Angela changed that, not by force, but by being exactly who she was, unfiltered, bold, kind, a little messy, and deeply honest. She didn’t just accept his broken pieces. She showed him how to carry them with grace, and he loved her more than he ever thought he could love anyone. One Thursday evening, James took a trip alone.
He told Angela he had a work dinner in Dallas. It was only a half lie. He did have meetings, but the dinner, that part was his secret. Instead, he flew to Charlotte, the city where it all began. He returned to Charlotte Douglas International Airport, to gate B12, sat in the same seat where he first met her. The gate agent eyed him curiously, but James didn’t care.
He reached into his carry-on, a new one, but identical in shape and color, and pulled out a small velvet box. Inside was a ring, simple, elegant, a rose gold band with a tiny diamond in the center, nothing flashy, but full of meaning. In the other compartment, was a printed photo of the gate where they’d met, with the date scribbled underneath.
March 5th, the day everything changed, he whispered aloud. I’m claiming what I didn’t know I was looking for. Angela didn’t suspect a thing when James returned from his trip with flowers. Tacos and that warm smile that always gave her goosebumps. She didn’t suspect a thing the next day or the day after.
Even when he suggested they take a stroll around town lake and stop by a local cafe. She thought it was just a date night until they passed a small park, one she’d never seen before, where fairy lights danced between the trees and a tiny table had been set for two right on the grass. Angela turned to him, eyes wide. What is this? James took her hand. Come with me. He led her to the table.
Soft jazz played from a Bluetooth speaker nearby. The city buzzed just beyond the trees, but here it was like time paused just for them. They ate, laughed, shared a bottle of wine, and then watched the stars slowly fill the sky. And then James stood. I have to tell you something. Angela tilted her head, smiling. Okay, this feels serious. He nodded.
It is, but it’s also simple. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the photograph. This is where we met. Gate B12, Charlotte, March 5th. She blinked, stunned. You flew back? I had to, he said. I had to remember how a mistake led me to everything right. Angela’s hand covered her mouth. James knelt, pulling out the ring box. I didn’t believe in love.
I thought it was dangerous, distracting, maybe even destructive. But then I met a woman who handed me back my life without asking for anything in return. A woman who made me laugh when I forgot how. Who challenged me when I tried to hide. Who told me the truth even when it hurt. He opened the box. Angela Basset.
Will you marry me? She gasped, tears spilling instantly. I I was not expecting this, she whispered, hand trembling. I hope that’s not a no, he said, eyes gleaming. Angela dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around him, and buried her face in his neck. It’s a yes. God, it’s a yes. They didn’t have a big wedding, just a quiet ceremony on a warm spring afternoon.
Friends and family gathered under a canopy of oak trees, wild flowers blooming around them. Angela wore a cream lace dress, simple and beautiful. James wore a light gray suit and the widest smile anyone had ever seen on him. As they exchanged vows, Angela’s voice shook. I thought I was too broken, too tired, too scared to try again.
But you, James, you didn’t rescue me. You just stood beside me until I realized I didn’t have to be alone anymore. James took her hands. I don’t promise perfection. I don’t even promise to always get it right. But I promise to stay, to grow, to choose you every morning, even on the hard days. When the officient pronounced them husband and wife, their kiss wasn’t cinematic.
It was soft and real, full of every unspoken word they’d carried for too long. Later that night, back in their apartment, Angela sat beside James on the couch, her wedding shoes kicked off, hair let down. I still can’t believe it started with a suitcase, she said. James chuckled. And matching ones at that.
She turned to him. What if you hadn’t picked up mine? He looked at her seriously. then I would have spent the rest of my life with everything I thought I needed and none of what I truly did. Angela leaned her head on his shoulder. Well, I’m glad you messed up. He kissed her forehead. Best mistake I ever made.
One year later, they opened a tiny boutique cafe near downtown. Austin called gate B12. It wasn’t flashy, but it had charm. warm lighting, soft jazz, and little wooden signs with quotes about love, fate, and second chances. On one wall hung two identical black Samsonite bags with a brass plaque. Underneath, sometimes love finds you in the unlikeliest luggage.
Behind the counter, Angela poured coffee while James handed out fresh pastries. A couple walked in, arguing about directions, both a little flustered. Angela smiled, nudging James. Think they’ll figure it out? he grinned, watching them. Maybe, he said, if they’re lucky enough to sit together while they wait. Hey, beautiful souls.
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