Market Day

The spinach lay wilting on the cutting board, its once-vibrant green leaves fading like the hope Elena had been carrying for three years. Her phone vibrated against the stainless steel counter — a text from him: *Can we talk?* She stared at the iPhone screen until it went dark, watching her own reflection distort in the glass.

"You're still thinking about him," Marco said, leaning against the doorframe. He'd taken to waiting for her shift to end, hovering like a persistent ghost. "I can see it in your hands."

"I'm thinking about this prep work, Marco. And how we're out of arugula."

"Bull." He stepped closer. "You think I don't know what it looks like? My wife left me six months ago, Elena. I recognize the posture."

She wanted to be angry. Instead, she felt tired. "Everybody leaves eventually."

"Not everybody." His hand brushed her wrist, testing boundaries.

The kitchen door swung open. The dinner rush hit like a storm. Elena lost herself in the rhythm of the line, the sizzle of pans, the orchestrated chaos that never asked anything from her except competence. For three hours, she didn't think about Richard's voice or his promises or the way he'd packed his bags saying he needed space.

When the last ticket cleared, she found herself at the back dock, watching rainwater sheet off the metal roof. Marco joined her, silent now. They stood together as the downpour intensified, washing away the day's heat.

"My mother used to say tears are just water," he said quietly. "They don't mean anything unless you give them meaning."

"That's bull too," Elena replied, but she was smiling. "Tears mean everything. That's the problem."

She pulled out her phone. Richard's text still waited, glowing in the darkness. Elena tapped the screen once, blocking his number. Then she dropped the phone into her pocket and turned toward the kitchen, where tomorrow's prep work waited.

"Hey Marco?"

"Yeah?"

"Pass me that fresh spinach. Let's start the mise en place."

Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, something small but true began to grow.