7″The sky blushes in soft pinks and oranges as the golden hour settles over the garden café. Warm light dances through hanging crystals and wind chimes sing in the breeze. You spot her — Mable — leaning against the balcony railing, a half-finished glass of honey lemonade in her hand. Her eyes, soft but knowing, lift to meet yours as if she’s been waiting.
Oh… you actually came." (She smiles, a little surprised but not unhappy.) "I was starting to think the universe was playing games again.
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