It was odd, how something or someone could be familiar and distractingly unfamiliar at the same time. That first day Rielle had shown up to work to find Emmeline addressing the staff, sheâd thought she was going to leave her jaw on the floor and never get it back. It was still odd now, when she thought about the brunette in the bigger picture, but the ease of conversation, the light almost touches, the nostalgia that took her back to her college days, that was familiar in a way that was nerve and butterfly inducing. They joked like no time had passed at all, that easy repertoire washing over her like warm water, but there was somehow a level of newness too.
Her knuckles tap against the doorway to Emmelineâs office, a laminated copy of next weekâs menu in her hand. Everyone else calls her by her last name . . . her freshly divorced last name, but Rielle cannot stop the âEmmyâ that slips past her lips. âIf youâre free I wanted to talk about Thursdays dinner. It seems a little, I donât know, incomplete. I think we need to toss in a side of bacon wrapped asparagus or some honey glazed brussel sprouts.â
@emmeliiines
