Claire pushed through the door from the snow, cold still clinging to her coat. She brushed melting flakes from her shoulders, stamped her boots once on the mat, and let the door fall shut behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Inside, the air held. Not warm exactly\u2014held.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Wood-paneled walls softened the light, turning it amber. A few tables were occupied by couples bent toward each other over mugs, boots lined up near the door, damp and steaming as they dried. Voices stayed low, unhurried. No one here was trying to be seen. Nothing here asked for attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Claire clocked all of it in a single glance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then dismissed it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There she was. Wendy\u2014exactly where Claire expected her to be. Hands wrapped around a familiar mug sending up a steady plume of steam, smile reaching her bright eyes, already rising halfway from her seat before Claire even reached the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They hugged. A full one. Familiar. Claire returned it. Close enough to count, long enough not to offend. Wendy lingered a fraction longer than Claire would have chosen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her gaze slipped past Wendy, searching. The room again. The tables. The locals. No heels. No designer handbags. No phones face-up beside plates. No lipstick-marked wineglasses. No coats draped with intention. Just wool, denim, mugs, steam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The absence landed heavier than she expected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo,\u201d Claire said, still standing, her tone light with tension just beneath it. \u201cThis is what you traded your sunny jet-set life for?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wendy blinked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They sat. Claire slipped out of her coat slowly, deliberately, as if giving the place a second chance to impress her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI mean,\u201d she said, gesturing vaguely, \u201cthis.\u201d Her smile held, but it thinned. Appraising. \u201cRunning off to Vermont right after the divorce\u2026 that kind of urge says a lot, Wen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The server arrived before Wendy could answer\u2014mid-thirties, kind eyes, no sense of hurry about him at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSomething warm to drink?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wendy glanced down at her mug, then back up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnother maple latte, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Claire hesitated, then nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSame.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The server left\u2014Wendy leaned forward slightly. \u201cI promise, it wasn\u2019t that dramatic. They offered me a job. A promotion. I said yes. And now I\u2019m here. Honestly? It just\u2026 worked out.\u201d Her smile widened, quick and unguarded. \u201cAnd the people here are actually really friendly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Claire\u2019s jaw tightened. Wendy always did this\u2014pack disruption into clean sentences, as if that made it neutral. Like she had already left her behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019s one way to phrase it… another is that you\u2019re hiding.\u201d Claire folded her hands on the table, fingers lacing, unlacing. \u201cThis place is small. Quiet. Cold.\u201d A beat. \u201cCompared to LA.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wendy shook her head, almost amused. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t feel that way to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She talked about people stopping to chat. About conversations that weren\u2019t rushed or transactional. About how no one checked their phone every ten seconds, how no one sprinted toward the next thing. She didn\u2019t frame it. Just listed things she liked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Claire listened, irritation building\u2014not because Wendy sounded wrong, but because she sounded finished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So that was it.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou say that because it\u2019s new. New is always interesting.\u201d Claire\u2019s eyes flicked up, sharper now. \u201cMore interesting than old friends, apparently.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wendy frowned. \u201cHey. What\u2019s wrong with you? That\u2019s not like you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The server returned with the drinks. Steam rose between them, a brief interruption, a neutral third presence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Claire stared into her mug, watching the surface cloud, the faint sweetness lifting with the heat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou changed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wendy looked up. \u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, you did.\u201d Claire\u2019s voice stayed quiet, but it held. \u201cLook at you. The queen of cocktail parties\u2014rooftops, skyline, the whole performance\u2014settling for a mediocre little town.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cStop it,\u201d Wendy’s voice landed firm, lifting just enough to hold the line. \u201cPlease, Claire. Can we just enjoy a good drink together?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Claire didn\u2019t answer. She nudged the mug, watching the surface ripple, as if she had no appetite for it after all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wendy stayed, hands wrapped around her cup, letting the quiet sit between them. The silence stretched. Not confrontational. Interrogative\u2014asking without demanding. And after a moment, something shifted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The silence felt\u2026 safe.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Claire looked up then, unguarded. \u201cI guess\u2026\u201d Voice softened, fraying at the edges. \u201cI just miss my best friend. LA isn\u2019t the same without you, Wen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Something in Wendy\u2019s face changed\u2014not triumph, not relief. Just presence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI miss you too, Claire Bear. I really do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Claire laughed, quick and embarrassed, swiping at her eyes before the wetness could settle. Wendy let herself smile back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Outside, snow drifted past the window, lighter now. Almost gentle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For a moment, even Claire felt it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u00a9 2025 M\u00e1rta Vajai<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n Updated version posted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I revised this scene after feedback to better align character behavior and POV depth. The earlier draft helped me test the limits; this version reflects the canon more accurately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Claire pushed through the door from the snow, cold still clinging to her coat. She brushed melting flakes from her shoulders, stamped her boots once on the mat, and let the door fall shut behind her. Inside, the air held. … Continue reading