Warm weather was something Emmy was always excited to bask in. She could be outside doing anything during the spring and summer and she wouldnât mind it at all, because the world seemed infinitely more alive when the sun is beating down on it. Except maybe exercising, because who, with actual free will, would spend a warm day doing that? So when it came to leaving the restaurant for a bit to stroll through the spring festival happening downtown, eyeing the crafts and other items being sold, it was something she couldnât resist. It was probably the one of the only times Emmy didnât seem to mind when kids bobbed and weaved around her, running up and down the street as they participated in some kind of pre-holiday scavenger hunt. Part of her was in the middle of wondering if Jack was there with Mars when she swerved to avoid a running toddler and instead bumped into someone near a wine tasting tent. âSorry, I-.â Her words halted, caught in her throat as she caught sight of the hoodie the person was wearing, faded and worn letters spelling out Louisiana Culinary Institute, Baton Rouge on a weathered grey. Her gaze lifted until it met familiar brown and her heart pounded in her chest, confusion growing. She recognized the hoodie as one she had owned years ago, one that she had gotten from the few months she actually attended the culinary institute before realizing it wasnât for her and dropping out, and of course, the one hoodie that didnât seem to make it to Providence Peak with her when she moved. âI was wondering where that went.â