Kelly

I arrived at the bistro ten minutes early—too early. Typical. My nerves always get the best of me. The hostess smiled as she led me to a table near the window, where the glow of string lights from outside reflected softly on the glass. I fiddled with the strap of my bag, glancing at the menu but not really seeing it. My heart was racing, and I tried to remind myself to breathe. “What if I’m too awkward? What if they think I’m boring?” The thoughts were relentless. Still, I’d felt something in our messages—an ease I hadn’t expected. Maybe I wasn’t as bad at this as I thought. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses. I shifted in my seat, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I glanced toward the door for what felt like the hundredth time. “You’re fine, Kelly. They liked you enough to show up—just be yourself.” The thought steadied me, though I still felt a flutter of nerves. I placed my hands on the table to stop fidgeting and forced myself to smile. I saw the door open, and there they were—walking in, looking just as kind and genuine as I’d imagined. “Okay, here we go.” I whisper to myself.