WHEN: March 2023, mid-afternoon WHERE: The Grape Escape @draslihanxfahri-bailey
Everything is fine, Tilda signed to her daughter for the eightieth time this afternoon. With each second and beep of her phone with an incoming message, she remembered less and less what it was like to be thirteen and prone to hysterics. A grin hit her lips and faded fast at Layla indignant expression. She cleared her expression and looked sympathetic -- until she stumbled over someone's legs from where they sat on the ground. Sorry, she told Layla, nearly smacking her chest in her haste. To her daughter, she signed an abrupt goodbye and closed her phone. "Umm. Do I want to know?"
Right then, a person barreled into her side with a squeal. Tilda caught them both before they collapsed into the woman. An automatic rebuke hit her lips: "Stop running." They spluttered, eyes darting from one woman to the other. "What's the matter?" She recognized one of them: an employee here who was more skittish than not. The woman she didn't recognize, squinting at her with evident confusion. Nor did she recognize the people filtering in, drawn to the scene like moths to flames.
