Eli wasn’t planning on meeting anyone that day. She just wanted her usual caramel latte, a corner seat, and the comfort of her worn-out notebook.
But when she pushed open the door to her favorite little coffee shop, Bean There, someone else was in her seat.
A girl with dark curls, oversized glasses, and a sunflower-patterned tote bag sat there, scribbling furiously into a sketchpad. She glanced up, smiled, and said, “Sorry. You can sit if you don’t mind sharing.”
After that day, they met every Friday. Same table. Same drinks. Words and sketches. Slowly, their notebooks started to fill with pieces of each other—Kay’s sketches of Eli laughing, Eli’s poems about girls with sunflowers in their eyes.
