So I changed the subject.
When we left the café, she hugged me.
It was a brief embrace, the sort old friends share when they are unsure whether affection might be misunderstood.
But as she stepped away, she whispered, “I’m glad you found me.”
That night, I lay in bed thinking about those words.
Over the next few months, our coffee meetings became a weekly tradition.
Sometimes we walked through the park. Sometimes we sat in her garden and talked until the afternoon light faded. Occasionally, we visited the old neighborhood where we had grown up, pointing out houses that had been renovated and shops that had disappeared.
One afternoon, we found ourselves standing beneath the oak tree where we had said goodbye.
The tree was still there, though its branches were thicker and its trunk had grown enormous.
Anna touched the bark.
“I used to come here sometimes after I got married,” she admitted.
