She was the routine. Clara couldn’t remember what life had looked like before her. The next day on a Thursday afternoon Clara decided to take Leo to the park. The sun was surprisingly warm for spring. The air buzzed with children’s laughter and the distant hum of a coffee cart generator.
Clara sat on a bench near the sandbox, sipping her oat latte and watching Leo dig with an intense focus only toddlers could muster. She didn’t notice Simone until she was right beside her. “Clara!” Simone’s voice was syrupy sweet, always half a pitch too enthusiastic. “It’s been ages. How are you?”