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Mid-September, Tuesday at 5:42 PM.

The late afternoon sun of buttery gold was beginning its slow descent. Coffee stood by the railing of the Golden Oak promenade, his gaze sweeping across the sparkling water towards the park.

His phone lay in his palm. It was already 5:42 PM. Cream was due at 5:15 PM precisely. He was never this late. Never. A knot tightened in Coffee's stomach. He'd already sent one text at 5:20 and another at 5:30. Both remained unread.

His thoughts were interrupted by the distinct footsteps approaching from behind. Coffee registered the cadence: steady, deliberate, a little too close. He turned, a polite yet confused smile already forming on his lips, ready to apologize for being in the way, or perhaps even a hopeful, "Rue?"

But it wasn't Cream.

Coffee's polite smile wavered, then reformed, a little more strained. His mind raced, calculating possibilities. Were they here to mug him? Or just lost?

"Um, hello?" Coffee began, his voice calm, "Can I help you?"