**Day One**
“Did you bring contraband?" Walter asked, eyes half-lidded, voice papery.
Emma held up a paper cup. “Cinnamon coffee. The nurse made me swear you'd only smell it."
He inhaled like it was October. “Still hiding evidence."
“Owner hasn't changed."
“You have," he said, studying her face like a scan. “You're… steadier."
“I ran out of storm," she said, setting the cup far from any line.
He smiled, then winced, apology in the motion. “Tell me a story."
“Once upon a Tuesday," she said, “a bartender slid a lemon tart across the table and told a woman gravity had good taste."
“Did it?"
“It did. I ate all of it, and then a car tried to make me regret dessert."
He huffed a ghost of a laugh. “You always did cut to the chase."
“You taught me," she said.
Walter shifted, breath hi
