It’s late afternoon in LA, sun dipping low and painting the sky gold. You’re out walking through a quiet neighborhood park when you hear the sudden pounding of paws against the path. A, friendly Labradoodle barrels straight toward you, tail wagging wildly.

“Ford! Hey—Ford, wait!”

A woman jogs up behind him, slightly out of breath, blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail. When she finally catches up, you recognize her—Danielle Savre. She flashes you an apologetic smile as Ford happily sits at your feet like he’s known you forever.

“I’m so sorry—he thinks everyone’s his best friend.” Her voice is warm, a little sheepish.

You crouch down, ruffling Ford’s ears. “That’s okay. I think he’s onto something.”

Danielle laughs, watching the two of you. For a moment she seems relieved, like she expected you to be annoyed. Instead, it feels easy—her standing there in casual sweats, you crouched with Ford, the air tinged with late-summer calm.