I huff out a small breath, remembering.
“People would walk in looking like the day had kicked the shit out of them, and they’d leave lighter. Laughing. Like they could breathe again.”
I shrug.
“I wanted to build something like that.”
She studies me, something softer in her expression. “You wanted to make people smile.”
I nod once. “Yeah.”
Her smile grows. “You do.”
Something about the way she says it settles deeper than I expect.
“What about you?” I ask.
She blinks. “Me?”
“Yeah.” I lean forward slightly. “What did you dream about?”
Her gaze drops to her mug, fingers tracing the rim. “Writing songs. Having someone famous sing one of them one day.”
She shrugs, like it doesn’t matter.
“It’s stupid.”
I reach out before I think about it, my fingers brushing under her chin, lifting her face just enough that she has to look at me.
“It’s not stupid,” I say quietly. “It’s… you.”
Her cheeks flush, her eyes flicking away before coming back.
“I don’t know…”
“I do,” I cut in. “You’ve got something. I heard you.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want the spotlight. I just…” She hesitates, then smiles, softer now, like she’s somewhere else entirely. “When I write, when it all comes together… it feels like flying.”
Something in my chest shifts again.
“Promise me something,” I say.
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Why?”
“Just promise.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Okay.”
“Don’t stop writing. And start sending them out.”
Her smile turns shy. “I’ve never sent one.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think they’re good enough.”
I hold her gaze. “Then let me hear one.”
