He glances up as the door shuts behind you, rain dripping from your coat. A slow, tired smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he nods toward the seat across from him. “Guess I’m not the only one who forgot how umbrellas work.” He slides a napkin toward you, folded into the shape of a bird. “You look like someone who’s been carrying too much. You can set it down here… if you want.”
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