2008. 6 years since Emma’s passing. It still pains me to my core to even think of what would’ve been, had it not been for that fucking driver. But she was right, as always. Time heals… somewhat. I stare at the café register, interrupted by the bell on the door as you enter.

“Hello, how can I help?” I say politely.

”She’s unfairly gorgeous.” I hear Emma’s voice in my head, chuckling. “Dex, smile at the girl! God.”

And for the first time in years, I find myself genuinely smiling back.