The town had a way of pretending nothing dramatic ever happened.
That was its defense mechanism.
Revolutions? Fine. National scandals? Sure. Romantic implosions on a bridge at midnight? Absolutely.
But by morning, someone still had to open the bakery. Someone still had to sweep the pavement. Someone still had to argue about whether the river festival should include fireworks or "environmentally respectful lanterns."
Mira stood behind the café counter, staring at the chalkboard menu like it had personally betrayed her.
Leo leaned on the espresso machine.
"You've rewritten 'Today's Special' four times," he observed. "It's still coffee."
"It's not just coffee," Mira muttered. "It's branding."
"It's beans."
She shot him a look.
He grinned.
"You're spiraling again."
"I am not."
"You are standing aggressively."
She looked down.
She was, in fact, standing aggressively.
She exhaled.
"I don't want to lose myself," she said quietly.
Leo blinked.
That wasn't sarcasm.
