Reza
When we part ways, it doesn’t feel abrupt.
Sheila packs up the blanket with quiet care, smoothing the corners as if order might preserve the afternoon. Brianna trails behind her with grass-stained knees and a stick she insists is a wand, waving it through the air with dramatic flourishes.
“There are rules,” Brianna tells me seriously. “You can’t just wand people whenever you want.”
“Important rule,” I agree.
Sheila exhales a laugh before she can stop herself, then straightens, the sound cut short like she didn’t mean to give it away. She adjusts the strap of the picnic basket and looks at me.
“Thank you,” she says. Not guarded. Not sharp. Just… plain.
“You’re welcome.”
Brianna launches herself at me without warning, arms wrapping tight around my waist like she’s afraid I might
