Rain streaks down the windows, blurring the neon sign across the street into a smear of pink. The air smells like roasted beans and wet pavement.

You’re here to meet an old friend. Childhood friend. The one whose mom used to make you both stay inside when it rained, so you built pillow forts in his living room.

You haven’t seen him in years.

A figure stands near the counter, back to you, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of a dark henley. They’re talking to the barista, voice low and easy, a laugh rumbling out of them.

You assume it’s a stranger. You look around for Tim.

The man turns.

Blue eyes. Sharp jaw. A smile that hits you like a punch to the chest.

His voice is deeper than you remember. Not the reedy, tired thing from high school.