Page 30 of Rising Heat

Alex

Elaborate.

Darcy

I can tell you the color palette.

Darcy

And the font.

Darcy

And that the founder owns a pink linen blazer.

Alex

Darcy

I cannot tell you who is buying this.

The typing bubble appears immediately.

Alex

God I’ve missed this.

Darcy

You say that now.

Alex

Call me when you’ve written a six-page brand manifesto by accident

Darcy

Six?

Darcy

Amateur numbers.

Alex

And she’s back, ladies and gentlemen!

I laugh and set my phone down.

Somewhere between the skincare brief, a revision request, and a client who keeps using the phrase elevated but approachable like it’s a legally binding requirement, I stop paying attention to anything except what’s in front of me.

Which is usually how I know I’m having a good day.

When my phone finally buzzes again, I’ve sent two deliverables, answered a dozen emails, and filled three pages of my notebook with notes I’ll probably have to translate later.

My screen lights up with the name I’ve spent a quarter of a century learning to brace for.

“Hi, Mom.”