Page 46 of Hometown Heart

The predictable patterns shift—

morning arrivals carrying winter on their shoulders,

laughter cutting through steam and silence,

eyes that see past practiced deflection.

My voice was steadier as I neared the end, gaining confidence from the attentive silence that had fallen over Tidal Grounds. For once, I wasn't watching others live their stories; I was stepping into my own.

The ocean doesn't ask permission to touch the shore

It crashes in, relentless, again and again,

never afraid to want more, to leave its mark,

to reshape what was solid into something new.

Perhaps it's time I learned to be that brave.

I folded my paper quickly, nodding once at the crowd before retreating from the microphone. Applause followed me.

Rory stepped up to close the evening, thanking everyone for coming, but I didn't hear his words. I looked directly at the counter, my safety zone.

My neighbors gathered their coats and scarves, voices rising in conversation as they prepared to brave the cold. Some stopped to offer kind words about my poem. I said "thank you" and forced smiles.

While they greeted me, I sensed Jack was waiting.

Ziggy caught me as I cleared abandoned coffee cups from the tables. "Not bad for someone who swore he'd never read in public."

"Don't get used to it," I muttered.

"Too late. You're on the roster now." He grinned, lowering his voice. "Looks like someone wants to talk to you."

I didn't need to turn to know who he meant. "I need to clean up."

"You need to stop hiding. You just stood up there and told everyone you wanted to be brave. Now's your chance."

He squeezed my shoulder once and then gathered his things. As he passed Jack, they exchanged a brief nod. "Tell Cody I said hi," Ziggy offered as he swept past.

The crowd thinned until only a handful of stragglers remained, engaged in quiet conversations by the door. Jack finally stood and began to walk slowly toward me as if he had all the time in the world.

I continued stacking chairs, a methodical process that required just enough concentration to justify my silence. Each chair placed upside down on a table marked another moment I didn't have to face what was coming.

The final group lingered by the door as they buttoned their coats. Dottie glanced back at me, smiling.

All that remained was Jack and me and all the words we had yet to say.

I started to wipe the counter down. "Need help with any of this?"

Without waiting for an answer, Jack lifted a chair and flipped it smoothly onto a clean table. He knew how to perform the needed tasks without being told what to do.

"Thanks."

We worked in silence, moving around each other in a careful dance. I swept while he gathered used napkins. He stacked mugs while I wiped down the pastry case.

I didn't know where to start. Finally, the last chair was stacked, and I'd wiped the last surface clean. Somebody had to say something.

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed over my chest. Jack stood by the front window, silhouetted against the streetlights outside. Snow had begun to fall again, fat flakes swirling under the glow of lamps along Main Street.

---