Chapter 2: Old Friends
301 Words
Chapter 2: Old Friends
Maya drove like she lived – full throttle and laughing – winding through coastal suburbs, wind whipping hair into a frenzy as they passed sea spray and cliffs.
At Camps Bay, they parked above the crashing waves, gazing at the Atlantic's steel-blue expanse dotted with surfers. The air was thick with salt and the distant scent of eucalyptus wafted up from the gardens below.
"Still got your touch with plants?" he asked, grinning, remembering late-night weed-identifying sessions in uni, Maya's curls tangled in her hoodie as she geeked out over rare fynbos.
"Still chasing sunsets with a camera?" she shot back, eyes sparkling like the sea below.
Over greasy takeaways on a rock, they caught up – her botanical garden work, his globetrotting photos, the people they'd lost touch with.
The banter felt easy, like slipping on old shoes. They talked about his travels – Myanmar monks in saffron robes, Colombia's coffee farms at dawn, storms in Alaska that left him speechless.
"Missing the rainforests?" she asked, licking salt off chips. "Missing you guys," he said before thinking. Her gaze lingered, warm as the sun dipping into ocean. For a heartbeat, the noise dropped away – just waves, stars twitching awake, and the hum of connection.
As they repacked the Jeep, the night air vibrated with possibility. "Hungry proper?" she asked. "Starving." "My place. Mom made enough bobotie." They drove through darkening streets, windows down, music thrumping low.
At her flat, the scent of spiced meat and Cape Malay spices hit them like a hug. "Mom's been cooking all day," Maya said, leading him in. Her mom welcomed Alex like family, piling his plate high. Over food, they talked late – about work, memories, dreams.
As the night wore on, the shadows retreated, leaving space for whispers.
- Writer
