THE FIRST CONVERSATION
"Thanks," he said, setting down his cup and notebook. As he settled into the chair, he offered a hand. "I'm Ethan."
"Grace," she replied, shaking his hand briefly.
There was an awkward pause before Ethan broke the silence. "You look like you're deep in thought. Read the book?" He gestured to the closed novel with him.
Grace glanced at it and smiled faintly. "It's… okay. Kind of heavy. I'm not sure if I like it then."
Ethan leaned forward slightly, curiosity lighting up his features. "Heavy's good sometimes. What's it about?"
She hesitated. "It's about loss, mostly. How people cope with it."
He tilted his head. "Sounds like it hits close to home."
Grace blinked, caught off guard by his perceptiveness. She debated brushing off the comment but decided to be honest. "Yeah, it does. But sometimes it's easier to face things through someone else's story, you know?"
Ethan nodded, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "I get that. Stories have a way of helping us make sense of things we can't always talk about."
Their conversation flowed from there. Ethan talked about his work as a writer and how he often spent hours observing people in cafés like this one. Grace found herself opening up about her love for art and how she used to spend weekends painting before her energy dwindled.
"Do you still paint?" he asked.
Grace shook her head, her smile tinged with sadness. "Not as much anymore. Life's… been a little unpredictable lately."
Ethan didn't press further, sensing there was more she wasn't saying. Instead, he shifted the topic, sharing a funny story about getting lost on his way to town. Grace laughed, the sound surprising even herself. It felt foreign but good, like a weight had been lifted, even if only for a moment.
By the time they parted ways, Grace realized she hadn't thought about her illness once during their conversation. Ethan handed her a napkin with his number scribbled in neat handwriting.
"In case you ever want to chat again," he said, his smile warm and genuine.
Grace stared at the napkin as she walked home, her heart feeling something it hadn't in a long time: a flicker of hope.