“I am so sorry,” Abby said, and placed her cell phone on the table. Charlotte Clark was a master of the guilt trip, and Abby had become adept at avoiding it as much as possible - which meant she was selective when answering her calls, and rarely returned them. I’ll give you a call later.” Abby pressed the end button before her mother could lecture her more. And for some reason, that made Abby happy. He was sweet, sincere, but not flirtatious. She watched Bryce as he talked to the young woman. He turned his attention towards blonde ponytailed waitress, while Abby tried to wrap up her phone conversation. “Sorry,” she mouthed, and rolled her eyes. Relief, maybe? Abby was unsure, and it disappeared nearly as quickly as it had appeared. His eyes met hers, and they matched the smile on his face – but there was something else there, as well. She breathed a sigh of relief, as she glided onto the seat across from him. Bryce sat with his back to her, at the same booth they had occupied three days earlier. Yanking open the door, she hurried inside. Her stomach was twisted in knots, afraid he had decided that she had stood him up, and left. She was supposed to have met Bryce for their first Saturday morning coffee date five minutes ago. She walked quickly along the sidewalk towards the café. “Yes, Mom.” Abby’s tone was exasperated, and she no longer cared if her mother knew it. But Abby was thankful she had found a friend she could have called at two-thirty in the morning one that would not have been upset – one that would understand. She didn't text him when the nightmare wrenched her from sleep, screaming Trevor's name, her pajamas soaked with sweat. Bryce's final text came in just as her eyes were closing, and sleep was trying to find her. They texted the remainder of the evening, and into the night, until Abby finally fell asleep. **Blair Witch?** he responded after a moment. She was more than slightly astonished that this stranger, whom she had met only hours before, could make her smile on this of all days. Suggestions?**Ībby let out a small laugh. Abby guessed Bryce had his own routine every July 17th, the day Emily had passed away. Of course, of all her friends, he was the one who would have internalized that information. She shook her head, amazed he had remembered her annual Valentine's routine of bath, wine, and horror movie.

Strangers by A.L. Parks