Thegirlpushesopenthegssdoorandstepsintothecafé,breathinginthefragranceofcoffeebeansandpastriesasitenfoldsherinafamiliarembrace.Herhighheelsslightlywobbling,shewalksovertoatablebythefloor-to-ceilingwindowsandsits.Thesntedsunlightofmid-afternooncastsherawashile,inspicuousspotlight,herdarkhairabsitswarmth,ashawloverherbareshoulders.

Shewearsawhitesleevelesstunidtealcroppedpants.Apairofnavy-rimmedgssesrestsonthebridgeofhernose,andtinyptinumcrestsdanglefromherears.

“Goodafternoon,”saysthewaiterpleasantly.Heholdsalittlenotepadandapencil,preparedtojotdownherorders.“Whatwouldyouliketodrinktoday?”

Thegirlsmilesupathim,hereyesglittering,andpointstwotablesawayatanotherwaiterservingatall,kinggssoficedmatcha:abeautifulpaletterepletewitharegalemeraldatthebottomthatfradientuptothefrothing,sea-foamwhiteatthesurface.

Herwaiterfollowshergaze,givesheraknowingsmile,andscribblessomethingdownonhisnotepad.Heasks,“Wouldyoulikeanythi?”

Thegirlshakesherhead,sayingnothing.

Thewaiternods,says,“Won