The sky was a soft blur of pale gold and blue, morning light filtering through the branches of the old fig tree overhead.
Birds chirped lazily, wings fluttering somewhere near the rooftop.
At a round wooden table set in the small yard, Noel and his grandmother sat side by side.
Steam curled gently from their plates.
The meal was simple—fresh bread, slices of soft cheese, scrambled eggs with herbs from the garden.
A pot of tea rested between them, and the mismatched cups clinked softly as they toasted mid-laugh.
His grandmother had been talking the whole time. About the cat that wandered into the yard last week.
About the neighbor's garden. About how she still didn't trust the man who sold her onions at the market.
"And I told him—don't try that trick with me, young man, I've been buying onions since before your mother even thought of you," she said, eyes gleaming.
Noel snorted into his tea, covering his mouth.
"Did he flinch?"
