Snowflakes settle on Heather’s coat. She steps forward onto the street, squinting her eyes to make out the figures at the end of the sidewalk. The snow crunches under her boots. She rolls the straps of her coat in her hands, twirling them intensely, rocking on her feet as she steps.

She takes out her phone and looks at the time. 11:15. She’s a bit late… hopefully she isn’t sick. Heather turns on her front camera to check her face. She tucks away an unruly strand of ginger hair.

One month ago, she fell in love.

With Amber. That’s the name she uses for her drink order. But Heather had seen her many times, in the line of the coffee shop at 11:12, in front of her or after her. Every day. Amber was so elegant. She was probably a star attorney or an important banker, judging by the classy suits and business blouses she wore. Or maybe a scientist? Her razor-sharp hazel eyes seemed to carry the wisdom of the world.

Soon, Heather caught herself hurrying or slacking just to perfectly match Amber’s time, to see her again. Today, she would open the door for Amber. And maybe, just maybe, she could start a conversation with her.

---

Amber glances at her smartphone, checking the time. 11:15. “Okay, we’re good. Are you ready to go?”

The man sitting in the driver’s seat of the moving truck nods. Amber gets in her car and starts the engine. The moving truck starts too, driving toward her new home. Amber watches the houses go by through her car window.

She catches sight of the cute girl standing in front of the coffee shop, who is always in line with her. The baristas call her Heather.

A small needle pierces through her chest, a feeling of loss she cannot place. She shakes her head, shooing the pain away.

Why are there tears in her eyes?