I reached for a mug and poured myself some coffee, focusing on the simple task to keep from getting too caught up in her presence.
"Can I get you anything for breakfast?"she asked, her eyes sparkling with morning energy.
"I don't suppose you have beans and toast," I replied, half-joking.
Her brow arched in surprise.
I waved it away."Something my gran would make...Eggs and toast is fine."
She nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips."I'll be right back."
As she headed into the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of her grandmother by the oven.The sight was a relief, a small confirmation that things could be normal, even after such devastation.
I took a seat at the small wooden table, my hands wrapping around the warm mug of coffee.The hum of conversation from other guests faded into the background as I let my thoughts wander.
From where I sat, I could see Claire moving efficiently in the kitchen, her movements graceful and purposeful.She exchanged a few words with her grandmother, who nodded and continued working with practiced ease.It was a scene that felt oddly comforting, like watching a well-rehearsed dance.
The clatter of plates brought me back to the present.Claire's grandmother turned slightly, catching my eye for a moment.She gave me a nod, one that carried an unspoken message of understanding and acceptance.
I leaned back in my chair, letting the warmth of the room seep into my bones.
Claire returned with a plate in hand, placing it gently in front of me."Eggs and toast," she announced with a hint of pride.
"Perfect," I replied, meeting her gaze."Thanks."
She lingered for a moment before returning to the kitchen, leaving me to my thoughts once more.The eggs were cooked just right—soft and slightly runny—while the toast had a satisfying crunch.It was simple but comforting.
As I ate, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this small reprieve from the chaos that had defined my life for so long.For once, there was no need to be on guard, no immediate threat lurking in the shadows.
Claire continued bustling around the kitchen, her movements graceful and efficient.There was something about watching her that felt almost...normal.And normal was something I hadn't felt in a long time.
But normal wasn't something I could afford right now.
Other guests chatted around me, their voices blending into a comforting hum.For now, I'd keep to myself—distance was safety.
Claire came back out of the kitchen with a plate balanced carefully in her hands.She placed it in front of me with a small, triumphant smile.
"What do you think?"she asked, her eyes dancing with anticipation.
I looked down at the plate and raised an eyebrow."They're cookies."
Her smile widened, and for a moment, the room seemed a bit brighter."Yes," she said."My grandmother and I are taking them to the Christmas market.Try one."
I hesitated.Sweets had never been my thing, even as a kid.But there was something in her earnest expression that made it impossible to refuse.With a resigned sigh, I picked up one of the cookies and examined it.
It was golden brown with a dusting of powdered sugar on top.The edges were crisp, while the center appeared soft and chewy.I took a cautious bite.
The flavor surprised me.A burst of buttery richness filled my mouth, followed by a hint of vanilla and the warmth of cinnamon.The texture was perfect—crisp edges giving way to a tender, melt-in-your-mouth center.It was simple yet comforting, like a taste of home I hadn't realized I'd been missing.
Claire watched me expectantly, her hands clasped together in front of her apron.
"It's good," I admitted, swallowing the last bite."Really good."
Her smile grew even more radiant, if that was possible."I'm glad you like it," she said, sounding genuinely pleased.
For a moment, I allowed myself to bask in that sunshine smile and the lingering sweetness on my tongue.It was such a simple thing—a cookie—but it felt like more than that.It was an offering of kindness and connection in a world that often felt cold and indifferent.
"Thank you," I said softly, meeting her gaze.
