It was one of those days where life just felt heavy. Bills overdue, my phone buzzing with messages I didn’t want to answer, and this sense of exhaustion I couldn’t shake. I decided Nolan and I needed a break. Just a quick milkshake run—nothing fancy.
We went to the corner diner, the kind with checkered floors that probably haven’t changed since the ’80s. Nolan ordered his usual: vanilla, no whip, extra cherry. I sat there on one of those uncomfortable metal chairs, half lost in my own head, barely paying attention.