Early March — Late Winter
The cold that morning wasn't cruel, but it lingered.
It clung to the sidewalks in thin silver frost, curled around the edges of iron railings, and drifted through the air in slow, pale breaths that escaped anyone who spoke outside. Winter was loosening its grip, but it wasn't finished yet. The sky hung low and gray, like a ceiling pressed too close to the earth.
Courtney tightened her coat as she stepped onto the corner café patio.
The place was small but elegant — glass walls, black metal chairs, and round marble tables still faintly chilled from the night air. Inside, warm yellow lights glowed softly, reflecting off copper fixtures and polished wood. The smell of roasted coffee beans drifted outward each time the door opened, wrapping around passersby like an invitation.
She spotted Dwayne immediately.
