Morning Light

No one told Emmeline that love sometimes arrives like an unexpected guest, unplanned and yet thoroughly welcomed. It might sound clichéd to say she was just returning from her daily commute, drenched from an unexpected downpour, when everything changed — but that’s precisely what happened. In a town like Riverton, spontaneous downpours were part of the daily narrative, as were the fragrant scents wafting from Emmeline’s street-corner bakery. Drying off, she glanced around at the bustling shop, full of familiar faces and new visitors. Life was a careful blend of the expected and the unexpected, though she never would have guessed it would include Landon. Landon worked just down the road at Riverton’s local arts center as an American Sign Language interpreter. He was the kind of guy who wore a smile like a badge of honor, spreading warmth like the very morning light Emmeline loved. She met him first on a Wednesday afternoon — an afternoon she stubbornly left off the café’s outdoor sign, an irritating oversight due to the hectic morning. "’Scuse me, you the genius behind these scones?” He’d randomly popped in, complimenting her baking with exaggerated munching. "Yep, that’s me," she chuckled. "Better save some praise for my other confections." Their opening exchange blossomed into daily banter. Emmeline would pretend not to see him on the sidewalk from her window view while he’d try making subtle, silly faces intended to amuse. Somewhere between the lighthearted banter, though, their relationship carved space to share the more personal parts of their lives. Landon was an expat, absorbing life in Riverton, while Emmeline adored creation, each pastry a reflection of comfort she once craved. It was a sunny morning, weeks later, when Landon popped by with a stack of books on sign language — his attempt to perpetually intrigue the woman who knitted words yet appreciated gestures of love. That’s how they ended up swapping stories and brewing coffee on Sunday mornings, while city sounds mumbled background symphony. Landon told her about how he moved across continents following dreams and dancing ambitions, weaving through cultures like spoken poems. Days turned brisk and so did their curiosity about where this relationship stood. Life invited surprises, though, mostly unannounced. "Ever wonder what it’ll be like to wake up somewhere different?” Emmeline posed it one day, unaware it reflected her inner struggle. As would twist human irony, conversations with an old flame stumbled open just then. A letter — predictable yet unexpected — arrived, reigniting questions about unfinished chapters, secret hopes, and memories. Timing wasn’t its best, or maybe it was. "I don’t think I ever truly left him," Emmeline confessed over chamomile tea. "Sometimes there’s comfort being haunted, ya know?" Landon’s eyes exuded empathy threaded with resolve. "It’s never really about the ghost; it’s what you, Emmeline, need. Morning light suits you, but maybe today, the light outside is gasping for your company?" Words, heavy in sincerity, sprouted necessary distance. Space for clarity she didn’t know she craved. Seasons rolled over like relentless tides, sowing new perspectives about identities and reflections. A letter penned, older flame laid to rest, hearts mapped new geography. Months brought fresh beginnings wrapped in curious anticipation. They met once more, not under rigid expectations but instinct-filled reality, greeting the future with hands finding peace within embrace’s body warmth in the bakery corner spot. Silence trumpeted above whispers like firm compacts lenders of matured sensibilities exchanged. Nevertheless, life hummed as always, reflecting upon freshly spelled-out stories, bringing with it lingering embrace sent through scents of scones and possibilities anew.