Reza
Lunch was Stephany’s idea, and she didn’t dress it up.
“You’ve been eating like someone who forgets meals exist,” she said, arms crossed, expression unimpressed. “That ends today.”
I laughed before I could stop myself. “I eat.”
“Standing,” Carol added. “Or walking. Or while doing three other things.”
Milly nodded solemnly. “Once I saw you eat a protein bar while filling out forms.”
“That was efficiency,” I protested.
“That was tragic,” Stephany said, already reaching for her coat.
So here we are.
The café sits just outside pack territory, human-owned, warm in that slightly chaotic way that comes from mismatched chairs and handwritten menus. It smells like bread and cinnamon and overbrewed coffee. Comfortable. Unambitious.
I like it immediately.
Nancy is already there when w
