98: a spontaneous recovery

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HE TOOK HER TO A PART of New York that Camila had yet to explore. The sun was setting, later than usual at 6 p.m. and the street lights were beginning to flicker on. When the whole street became illuminated by a light not from the orange setting sun, Camila found it particularly beautiful, as if another day had just begun.

They had been walking in silence for a while after exchanging greetings and asking how each others' days went. For Laurent, he was busy sorting out his luggage and belongings with the airline company as it was arrive on a later plane, which is coincidentally how he was able to make it to Camila's after-recital party so quickly. For Camila, it was rehearing a whole new program of songs for her courses and for her upcoming concert.

"I'm so hungry," Laurent complains. "And cold. My fingers feel like they're about to fall off."

"Maybe if you used your coat pockets like you're supposed to..."

"I need the directions." He shows his phone screen to Camila, who raises her head to look at the spot pinpointed on the map displayed on his phone.

"Shouldn't you know it by now? Childhood friend and all?"

"Listen...it's been a while okay."

"Do they even remember you?" Camila jokes.

"Even if they forgot about me, a young, earnest, and kind man, they wouldn't turn down business right?"

She rolls her eyes but bites back a laugh. "All this walking is making me hungry too." She hasn't eaten since her late breakfast this morning but chooses not to disclose this information. Sometimes, it was busy enough managing her schedule and stress without having to worry about what to eat all the time, which is why Laurent's suggestion to get dinner together became something she was looking forward to all day.

Laurent stops dead in his tracks and Camila bumps into his arm and loses her balance. Before she can topple over into the snow, he catches her with one hand, arms snug around her waist and slowly brings her upright, carrying both her and his phone. "Careful," he says nonchalantly.

The damage is done however, as all Camila can think about is the way his arms felt against her, separated by their padded coats and layers, but nonetheless pressed close against her body. "What's wrong?" she asks instead, smoothing out her scarf.

"I think I've made a mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"Camila...it's not here."

"What's not?"

"The restaurant, obviously."

"You can't be serious."

"I so am."

"Well where do we go now then?"

"Ramen?"

"Ramen."

And just like that, dreams of Mediterranean food were chased out of Camila's head and they, on that very spot where she bumped into Laurent, decided to just get something else. There is never disappointment between the two when they made that decision so quickly and after all, it's only early in the night and there are plenty restaurants all around them.

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