Chapter 12
The vinyl red booth at the Maple Leaf Diner smelled of fried onions and old maple syrup. Elena sat opposite Martha, an old family friend she hadn't spoken to in three years, who had driven two hours through the snowstorm as soon as she saw the news report on the local evening broadcast. Martha slid a steaming mug of black coffee across the Formica table, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You look like you've been through a war, sweetheart," Martha said softly, reaching across to cover Elena's hand with her own calloused palm. Elena managed a small, genuine smile, feeling the warmth of the coffee cup seep through her fingers. "It feels like one," Elena replied, her voice steady. They didn't talk about Julian or the livestream; instead, they talked about small things—the roof leak at Martha's farm, the upcoming town bake sale, and the nursery room that needed painting before spring arrived. It was the most normal conversation Elena had had in over a year.
