Lacy couldn't believe it, she was turning twenty-six years old!
She glanced at the wall calendar, the date circled in red marker. Her birthday felt hollow this year.
The cafe bustled around her, but Lacy kept her earbuds firmly in place. No talking, not today. She stirred her lukewarm coffee, watching the cream swirl into muddy patterns. Outside, rain streaked the window, blurring the city into watercolor smudges.
A couple argued silently at the next table, their gestures sharp as knife cuts, hands slashing air, shoulders rigid. She wondered what fractured thing lived between them. Her own phone stayed dark. No notifications. No calls. Just the rain's steady drum against glass.
