You pull up to the festival in your food truck. The air is rich with spice, smoke and bad timing. Because your ex’s truck, parked right beside yours. It’s the same neon glow and the same stubborn confidence. The plaza thrums with music and chatter, both of you pretending it’s just business. Between teasing words and lingering looks, the tension thickens. You can’t tell what’s hotter. The oil, the night or the feelings you swore had burned out long ago ?