This isn't weird.

Camilla

 It was nearing the end of her shift, and assigned to the cash register, Millie was feeling particularly in her element today. She prided herself on having perfected the art of the checkout interaction. A big, warm greeting to every customer, just enough eye contact to disarm them without making them nervous, a smattering of organic chatter—praise, perhaps, for their choice of book, a snippet of trivia about the author, a delighted reaction to something printed on their shirt—just personal enough to make them feel seen, never engaging enough to keep them there any longer than necessary. Most people walked away from her a little happier than when they had walked up, and it fueled her.

"Howdy! Find anything awesome today?" Millie asked as the next customer approached. She looked up to meet his eyes, and her face froze. He was an especially tall man, with short, wavy brown hair and a close-kempt beard. She saw the moment he recognized her; his blue eyes widened and his thick brows shot up.

"Camilla McKillip? As I live and breathe, it's really you! Wow, you look great."

She swallowed. "Nobody really calls me that anymore."

"That's a shame. It's a pretty name," he said warmly.

Millie pressed her lips into a shape that she hoped resembled a smile. "I didn't know you still lived in town."

"Oh, no, I don't," he replied. "We're just in Corvallis for a few days visiting the wife's family."

"Oh, you're married?" she asked, as if she didn't already know the answer.

"Yes, indeed! Seven years as of last November."

"Wow, that's great." Millie tried not to do the math. She looked down at his purchase, a stack of colorful board books and a purple plush dinosaur. "Kids, too, huh?"

"Yeah. Six and three. They're amazing."

"Great. Great, that's so great. Um, your total is twenty-three ninety-six."

An awkward quiet fell as his credit card processed and she packed the books into a plastic bag. "Enjoy your visit," she said, handing him the receipt.

"Hey—" He hesitated. "I'm not in town long, but... I'd love to get a cup of coffee and catch up with you if you have any time this evening. We... never really got a chance to talk about things. Get closure, you know."

That's because you disappeared from my life without so much as a goodbye note, Millie screamed internally. "My shift ends in twenty minutes," she said instead.

"Is Blue Moon Cafe still open?" he asked. "Man, we used to love that place. It seemed so cool and grown-up back then."

"Yes," she answered. She hadn't stepped foot in the place since the day he had left.

"Fantastic. I'll meet you there. It's really good to see you, Camilla."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "You too, Noah."

Watching him go, she had a strange, sick feeling of waiting for the sky to fall.

Millie's feet felt like lead as she forced them through the door. The Blue Moon Cafe was alarmingly close to exactly how she remembered it. The lighting was low, the ceiling hung with mismatched string lights and cheap knock-off Moroccan hanging lanterns. Blue tapestries were hung haphazardly on the walls between the windows, all different shades and fabrics, as if they had been cobbled together from various thrift shops. They were a bit faded and dusty now. She remembered the windows as being stained glass, but she saw now that they were just decals stuck to regular glass, now beginning to peel at the edges. How had she never realized how tacky it all was?