Tracy....
We didn't need grand plans.
Just her sitting across from me again was enough.
Her laugh still curled at the edges like a page being turned.
Her fingers still fidgeted with loose threads on her sleeve.
Time hadn't changed her, not in the ways that mattered.
---
The first morning we spent together, we walked.
No destination.
Just feet on pavement.
Breaths shared in rhythm.
Laila reached out halfway through and slipped her fingers between mine like she had never let go.
> "I used to walk this street and wonder if I'd see you again," she said.
I squeezed her hand.
> "I used to walk it wondering if you still remembered me."
---
We visited a secondhand bookstore.
She picked out a copy of Wuthering Heights.
I picked Jane Eyre.
We traded after chapter four.
> "You always did love the quiet rebels," she teased.
> "And you always loved the ones who set fire to everything," I smiled.
She kissed me in the poetry aisle.
No one saw.
But it still felt like a miracle.
---
We bought oranges from a street vendor.
Ate them on a park bench, sticky fingers and soft silences.
I watched her peel hers in perfect spirals, like always.
> "I missed this," I said.
> "Oranges?" she asked, smirking.
> "You."
She stopped chewing.
Looked at me like I was a dream she'd only half-believed in.
And then leaned her head on my shoulder.
---
Later that day, we danced in her kitchen.
No music.
Just the hum of the fridge and the soft creak of the floorboards.
I sang something under my breath — a song we used to play on late nights, way back when.
She didn't say a word.
Just moved with me, her arms wrapped around my waist like a prayer.
> "I want to freeze this moment," she whispered.
"Right here. This breath. This light. You."
I didn't say it, but I wanted that too.
---
That night we lay on the floor, backs pressed against an old quilt.
Looking up at the ceiling like it was a sky.
We played our old game — What If.
> "What if we'd run away when we were sixteen?" she asked.
> "We'd be broke. And cold. And probably sharing one hoodie."
> "But happy?"
> "Yeah," I said.
"But maybe not ready."
She turned her head toward me.
> "And now?"
I looked at her, really looked.
> "Now I'm ready for all of it."
---
We didn't make love that night.
Not yet.
But we held each other like we'd earned the right to never be apart again.
We fell asleep like that.
Wrapped in the quiet.
---
Borrowed days.
That's what these felt like.
As if time had bent just a little, just enough, to let us step inside.
And for once — the world let us be happy.
---