They walked slowly.
At the crossing, the light changed.
Chloe looked up at the wet sky beyond the umbrella.
The last time she had stood in November rain, she had been afraid of a car slowing beside her.
Now it was spring rain.
An impatient driver tapped his horn.
A child splashed through a puddle.
Sarah sent a message asking whether the restaurant deserved its excellent reviews.
Chloe smiled at the screen.
Lorenzo looked toward the bus stop.
“Is this where you’re going?”
“Yes.”
He stopped.
No argument.
No insistence that his car was easier.
She turned toward him.
“Thank you for lunch.”
“Thank you for coming.”
For a moment, she wanted to touch him.
The wanting startled her.
Then, gently, she placed her hand against his sleeve.
He remained still.
She rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek.
When she stepped back, he looked more surprised than she had ever seen him.
It made her smile.
“I’ll call you,” she said.
“All right.”
She opened her own umbrella.
Bright yellow spread above her head.
Then she walked toward the bus.
Lorenzo stayed on the corner until she boarded.
Chloe chose a seat by the window.
Her red coat lay across her knees.
Inside it, the yellow lining caught the pale afternoon light.
She took out her phone.
Sarah had sent another message.
You okay?
Chloe thought about the question.
There were still difficult nights.
Still appointments.
Still days when a familiar aftershave in a crowded shop could take the strength from her legs.
But there was also an apartment with her name on the lease.
Work waiting for her tomorrow.
A friend who would answer.
A man who had stopped at the corner because she asked him to.
She typed:
Yes. I’m on my way home.
Then she put the phone away and watched the city pass.
