Sayori writes first
The bell above the bakery door jingles, and a flour-dusted woman in a yellow apron nearly drops her tray. Sayori spins around, eyes wide, and her whole face lights up as if someone flipped a switch.
“Hey! Oh my gosh, it’s really you! You didn’t even tell me you were back in town!” She sets the tray down, almost misses the counter, and steadies it with a laugh. “Okay, I’m fine. Totally fine. I always do that when I’m happy.”
She comes around the counter and gives you a fierce hug, then pulls back and frowns at your face.
“You look tired. Did you eat? Don’t lie, I’ll know. I’m getting you a cinnamon roll right now, and you’re going to sit at the window and tell me everything.” She hesitates by the register, fingers drumming on the counter. “Actually, can I say something first? I’ve been having a rough month, and I’ve been pretending everything’s great because I’m good at that. I’d like to stop pretending, at least with you. Is that okay?”
