cynthiasoriano

[cynthiasoriano]

Cyn: OMW!! 🏃🏻‍♀️‍➡️

     Once a location was laid down Cynthia somehow instictually knew; she'd grabbed her yoga mat and bag then slipped on her shoes before she was out of the house like she was late for a meeting. Something else she seemed to know was that it wasn't likely a ton of exercise would take place so she didn't exactly worry about forgetting to grab a water. 

When she'd arrived she'd greeted Val in their usual way and set herself up on her own mat to begin stretching out. Unfortunately, due to a busy schedule the last couple of weeks, Cyn had missed a handful of sessions and was disgruntled to find out that she had to work a little harder than usual. Thankfully, the reason she was called upon was finally revealed and she quit pretending to keep up with the yoga queen. 

❝ ⸻ Who? ❞ Taking in her friend's body language and considering the emergency texts Cyn had assumed this likely wasn't a positive. Still, she cautiously continued. ❝ A celebrity? One of those assholes that broke out of prison? Wait—is it that person you've had beef with? ❞

starter for: @cynthiasoriano location: birdsong park

Her texts had gone something like:

Val: 911!!!!!! Val: 🆘🆘🆘 Val: 🚨🚨🚨

And yet had somehow translated to the two meeting up at Birdsong Park for a yoga and yap sesh. Val wasn't complaining, she was more than grateful that her friend was willing to drop things and meet up during a crisis.

Seated on her yoga mat, she leaned over her outstretched legs, reaching for her feet and pulling her chest down flat against her thighs for a few seconsd before releasing them and moving to a new position. Finally, Val broached the reason for this emergency yoga sesh. "You will never guess who apparently lives here now!"

[cynthiasoriano]

     ❝ ⸻ Mhm, ❞ was hummed with the gentlest emphasis, quiet enough to be lost with the breeze, ❝ I'm all about my health and wellness journey. ❞ The fella was hard on the mysterious vibe, the badboy underdog in a romantic comedy type, and for his sake Cyn was too heavily committed to her recovery post meeting. There was a stillness about him that she had already begun to enjoy. It could've been confidence, that he didn't rush to fill silences or start spewing things he thought she would want to hear. Instead she was granted the time and space to decompress after hours in a stuffy room with big egos and men who knew better to the point of attempting to impose their business on her.

The dusk, as always on a clear evening, was beautiful and peaceful. After sitting in a conference room it was a blessing to stretch her legs out and her eyes too stayed on the horizon. ❝ You're a good read. I wish I'd had free wine. Hell, I would've even paid for it. ❞ Cynthia turned her head to the smoker, her lips curled in an amused smile. ❝ My complimentary coffee was refilled three times. ❞ The way her brow lifted hoped to convey just how generous her associates had thought that was. ❝ I was successful as a publisher and I've built my own business independently, but what is it about businessmen loving to break it down and explain it to me like I'm brand new? ❞ There'd be no offense if he'd chosen not to answer. She went back to some quiet as she let the last few hours slip away, while of course keeping up with her health by sipping her drink. 

❝ What does it taste like? ❞ Cynthia casually lifted her fingers from the arm rest and hardly motioned at the burning cigarette between his fingers. ❝ Do you actually like it or is it an oral fixation? ❞

Mateo didn't move right away, just flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette with a lazy tap, his gaze trailing her movements with with a kind of idle interest. His eyes cut to her drink, then back to her features, sharp enough to catch every flicker of her expression under the soft golden light. He took her in — the way her eyes didn’t shy from meeting his, striking and unbothered, dark tresses catching the breeze and framing her face like it’d been done on purpose. She was pretty, the kind that made your thoughts slip a little, just long enough to forget what you were about to say. "Dirty smoothie, huh?" he echoed finally, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he took another drag. "Guess that’s one way to get your nutrients in." He let his eyes drift back to the horizon where the sun was making it's descent, and dramatically so. Leaning back just slightly, he rested his weight into the chair, cigarette held loosely between his fingers now. "Smart of you to end it there. Let me guess. Some sort of work dinner? Networking event? Something with free wine and forced laughter."

[cynthiasoriano]

𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹

»» ⸻ pinewood social house

»» ⸻ with @shanepcrker

     It had happened again. Cynthia had gone out with her lovebird parents and she'd gotten ditched as a third wheel so they could have a makeshift date night. There was a partial inclination to believe her parents had asked her along so that she'd be forced away from work and projects for a while. Since her divorce, since moving back home, since launching her own podcasts it'd been a safe place to be. Except now she'd realized that she really should've brought a friend along with her. At least now she was onto her parents ploy.

That was when she caught sight of him. When she was alone on her way to the bar area to grab something while she either sat and took the time to go through emails and submissions, or figured out what to do under the roof of so many options. Cyn supposed the arcade could be a solo adventure, but first thing was first and that was a drink. The man was impossible to forget. Not only was he a Parker, they'd either been older or younger than her through school, in a small town most everyone knew who they were. It was their brief yet eventful experience in Everything Goes that had truly stuck in her memory.

What appeared to be his child and their friend had just run up to him and Shane was handing out some cash from his pocket, then the kids were off running. Cynthia didn't want to bother him if he were there with family, however, when Shane had come up to the bar near her alone she figured saying hello while he grabbed some drinks would be fine. ❝ ⸻ I'm surprised you have cash left to get something for yourself, ❞ Cyn jested, a small but friendly smile in place. ❝ And take it from me, the coins go really quick when you're on a roll in the arcade. ❞ After a sip of her drink and setting it back aside, ❝ hi, it's good to see you again. No caffeine addicts on their speakerphone in here at least, yeah? ❞

[cynthiasoriano]

[cynthiasoriano]

     As usual, whenever she found herself with a minute or two, Cynthia was in her phone and browsing her emails. A one woman show on all fronts meant she was also responsible for screening the submittals to be on her confessional podcast. Beyond that, she had the task of verifying, as best as possible, if they were true and real.

Most of the errands she'd stepped out for today had already been accomplished, and the meeting with the real estate agent had been fun. There was a chance she might've found the perfect downtown building to remodel into a professional recording studio. It'd be wonderful if she could return her spare bedroom back to it's original function of being a guest room.

Things going on around her—conversations, the tapping away on laptop keys, someone studying for an exam, and the expresso machine working hard—filtered in and out of her ears. The world continued to move in her consciousness and periphery. Even though Cyn had heard his comments, it wasn't until he cleared his throat that she actually looked up from the story she was reading.

The offer didn't register right away, though Cynthia did take two steps closer. ❝ ⸻ Oh, ❞ it finally clicked and her smile was immediate, ❝ are you sure? ❞ Her eyes moved back and forth between the kind stranger and the barista behind the counter. While he seemed reluctant, the barista had an encouraging smile. ❝ A medium latte and the granola parfait please. ❞ As she placed her order Cyn was pulling her cash from her pocket. A ten was put in the tip jar and then she placed a twenty on the counter and slid it closer to the barista. ❝ For however many people behind me this covers. ❞ She glanced at the male as she stepped aside, ❝ thank you. Usually it's holidays that bring that about so thanks for doing it just because. ❞

WHERE: Everything Goes ☕️

@cynthiasoriano

Was this some sort of game? Was he being pranked? Was John Quiñones hiding somewhere, waiting for the perfect moment to either congratulate him for doing the right thing or confront him about why he had been selfish and stopped the long chain of paying it forward at Everything Goes? He could already envision it: the camera in his face, with all of America judging him in real-time.

The person in front of him stepped aside with a warm smile, cheerfully settling his bill. Sebastian offered an awkward smile in return, murmuring a quick thank you as she exited with her order. He couldn't help but steal a glance at the woman behind him. Although they were strangers, he instinctively felt she might be the kind of person who would order far more than he was willing to pay. He understood her temptation; Everything was more than just a café—it was a treasure trove of delightful snacks and beverages designed for those both on the go and had a minute to stay.

Sebastian had come prepared, however, resolute in his decision to leave with a steaming cup of coffee and a fresh bagel in hand. He steeled his resolve against the enticing array of pastries and treats on display, each one more mouthwatering than the last, knowing that today, his willpower would triumph over temptation.

After placing his order, Sebastian turned to the woman behind him and offered a weary grin. "And... I'd like to pay for her order too," he said, clearing his throat as he stepped aside to search for his wallet.

[cynthiasoriano]

     While Cynthia patiently awaited the bartender crafting her cocktail a casual scan brought her to note that only one lounge seat remained open. If it came down to it Cyn wouldn't fight for it, she did, however, hope that the man lighting up a cigarette would do all of the work for her in deterring people from taking up the spot she'd mentally claimed. Her sandals made a light sound as she moved between the chairs and the sea breeze gently danced her light summer dress against her frame.

As she lowered herself, used her free hand to carefully tuck her dress under her as she sat, Cynthia placed her brightly hued drink on the little side table with a corner of her mouth lifting at the question. ❝ ⸻ Beach boys playing in the background, pastels in the horizon, had to pay a finger for this, ❞ Cyn pointed at the cocktail, ❝ well, it's pretty much a dirty smoothie he put so much fruit in it. ❞ There was no actual complaint so she waved it off. ❝ The aroma of an ashtray, ❞ she joked, ❝ the sun taking it's nightly dip and I get this to erase those faces I just had to spend the last couple of hours with? ❞ The same hand that had waved off her earlier sideline comment gestured toward the ocean rocking forward. ❝ I'm here for the experience. ❞

WHO — open starter ( 0/4 ) WHERE — golden hour beach bar WHEN — late one evening

Golden Hour didn't need neon signs or playlists trying too hard — the ocean did most of the talking, and the rest came from clinking glasses and the low murmur of conversations behind him. Mateo was stretched out on a beach lounge near the edge of the bar’s deck, elbow hooked lazily on the armrest, an unlit cigarette balanced between his lips. He flicked his lighter open and effortlessly lit the thing up, the smoke curling lazily around his face as he looked out to the ocean, catching the last of the sun as it dipped toward the sea. Salt air clung to his skin, which was very quickly becoming familiar. He took a drag, slow and steady, then glanced over his shoulder, catching movement behind him like he'd practically felt the eyes. His gaze lingered, his entire demeanour cool but curious, and maybe a little amused. "You drinking," he began, giving them a deliberate once over," "or just here for the view?" He didn't offer a smile. Just exhaled smoke and let the question hang between them like he already knew the answer.

[cynthiasoriano]

     ❝ ⸻ No, no, ❞ Cyn wagged a finger between them, ❝ shush! Don't you dare go ruining the storybook fairytale. ❞ The tease was on the memory of him back in high school. An attractive athlete in those times were almost always the prince in those Cinderella stories. It seemed the more she attempted to dust off the gulal the more it was determined to seep deeper into her dress. And now her fingers were coming up stained. Cynthia glanced at his shirt and then her eyes dropped to his shoes before they traveled back up. Not all men were into clothing, and Emil was making that obvious about himself. However, most were into their shoe collections. Yes, she was looking for the best cast of revenge when she'd have a palm full of soe vibrant color.

❝ Why not? That looks rare, almost like one of a kind, ❞ she teased of his bright pink shirt. Which, speaking of that hue, it wasn't the best way to blend in when in the midst of a fight. Emil seemed to be. Boys would be boys and all of that. She turned at the nudge and began in the direction he was leading. ❝ Pretend, ❞ Cynthia echoed, feigned offense in her tone as she trailed after him. ❝ You really don't think I stand a shot? You really don't think I'm angry enough at men to just — unleash? ❞ Mostly she was only making a jest. Mostly. As much as Cyn had thought differently of the Holi celebration, it was easy to see that plenty of people were making something of a game out of it. ❝ I'm not sure it's salvageable now. You already mentioned you have more than the one flaw. Can't un-pop a balloon, my friend. ❞

"That... was, I... don't?" The awkward tinge of his tone lingered, torn between amused and at least a pinch regretful. Emil did a commendable job of choking down a laugh. "If you think this is my only flaw, i've clearly deceived you." For a split second he tried to suss out what direction his actual target had escaped in, but they'd vanished artfully into thin air and left Emil to feebly wield his charms. The man's attention snapped back towards Cynthia, a glance cast over her festive spring attire. "Ya know, I really wish I could say yes so I was a little less afraid for my life right now," he teased "but I haven't the faintest clue." Emil gestured a hand at his shirt, neon pink with a cartoon bunny now splashed with blue powder. "Not exactly worried 'bout saving this." Maybe it was the sort of 'real adult' thing he should know, but he was a put it in the washer and pray sort of man. Luckily, the latter question was much easier to answer. Without a second's thought he stepped forward, Cynthia's shoulder nudged to do an about face. "This way. Gotta at least let you get... geared up, pretend it's a fair fight." Not that it was really supposed to be a fight at all, but people could make anything competitive. Somehow. "I'll even let you get a free shot in, ya know... try and save my swiftly diminishing reputation an all."

[cynthiasoriano]

YELLOWJACKETS 3.03 • Them's the Brakes

[cynthiasoriano]

     ❝ ⸻ I don't think it's in the realm of possibility for you to be annoying, ❞ Cynthia humored, though maintained eye contact through that moment to convey the truth of the statement beyond the smirk on her lips. ❝ Well meaning curiosity is a beautiful thing. I just wish I was more knowledgable to answer it all for you. ❞ The opportunity to be a resource for others felt valuable to Cynthia, and it was something she enjoyed. Which was perhaps why she shared so much about books and publishing with her podcast and through her social media, why she shared confessions others anonymously made. From all of it there was something to take away or learn as part of the audience. ❝ Oh my gosh, ❞ she laughed, ❝ I do the same. I am beyond prone to rabbit holes. Conspiracy theory tok? Don't let me near it. ❞

The response from Sammie was so considerate and the concepts seemed simple. As though she should have figured those out on her own. Though, sometimes, Cynthia saw a wall in front of herself and not a mirror. ❝ Being a presence on social media is just so intense sometimes, ❞ she'd said a little quieter when they were closer together at the table. ❝ The slightest errors and mistakes get blown up so huge. The scrutiny is— ❞ That shake of her head hopefully spoke to her wonder in how Sammie had done it for so long in her life. She'd become a big star, apparently against her will, and Cyn could understand why she walked away from it and enjoyed the peace in the silence. ❝ I chose this, I know that, and social media is a needed tool for my podcasts—but, it's hard not worry about judgements and perceptions. Keeping an image is so important yet utterly daunting and exhausting. ❞ After a big breath was released Cynthia let go of the tension that had been worrying at her shoulders. Too much of her life had become about work.

❝ Well, ❞ she leaned in some and bumped her shoulder against Sammie's, ❝ mine is for my parents actually. For their love to continue to endure, for their health and happiness. ❞ It was selfless, sure. They'd done so much to ensure a good life for her that she was always trying to pay it back. Cynthia was becoming aware that she needed to start rooting for herself more, though. Maybe she should add another wish to send off along with her lantern.

Maybe she was overthinking things and making it all more complicated than it had to be. While the concern was still there, Sammie clearly needed to let go a little bit and just escape into the meaning of it all, to let the purpose take over. "Thanks for indulging me," Sammie chuckled, "I'm being super annoying though, aren't I?" If she'd come to know Cyn as well as she'd thought she'd had then she'd guess that her friend would argue no. "I hyperfixate on things sometimes," she added with a shrug. It'd come with the territory of her craft, having that intense focus and skilled precision.

After she'd leaned back against the table and rested her body, having been on her feet all day, Sammie ran a hand through her wavy hair once she set the hat aside on the table for a bit. At the request for tips she blew air out of her mouth and slightly shook her head side to side as though she were just ask to solve the mystery of life. Her brow went up and then fell a moment later as considerations ran through her mind. "That's tough," she started, "I think it's so subjective person to person." With Cynthia standing before her, Sammie took a moment to really look at her... she appeared like she had everything absolutely together and going for her. Even with the hardships in her past. "Honestly, as cheesy and dumb as it sounds, for me, it was about not giving a shit anymore. Also a bit of that Let Them Theory. It's your life, you know? You have to not give weight to opinions and comparisons, even your own, and be happy with yourself at the end of each day." It was funny, when Cyn slipped her phone in her pocket Sammie pulled hers free to check the time. "I suppose I'm just curious what yours is," she shrugged with a wide smile, "just being nosy."

[cynthiasoriano]

     ❝ ⸻ I believe it, ❞ the slightest laugh tumbled forward, amusement shaded her eyes, ❝ my mind hadn't gone there on a personal level. Don't worry, I know the real world is not like a romance novel. ❞ A decision had been made to not dwell over the possibility that she'd come off in a way that might've misconstrued things. ❝ For my own personal reasons I agree with you. Full heart, mind, body, spirit—everything. ❞ Another, more solid laugh. Most men were assholes and the problem.

All attempts to look around him in the bush, to see what both he and the orange criminal were doing, had failed. For a moment Cynthia blinked at the back of his head surrounded by leaves, considering. ❝ Sookie doesn't seem to care about shiny things but it might be a thing. ❞ Cyn shrugged. ❝ I'm just saying that shaking jagged metal in their faces might not be the method, y'know? ❞ Though, it seemed that whatever Nate was doing was working. It could've been a friendlier, less homicidal energy the cat was reading or maybe the weirdo loved keys. ❝ Aww, ❞ she pouted playfully, ❝ I won't break your storybook heart. Illusions will remain alive and well. ❞

The outburst of laughter caused Cynthia to slap a hand over her mouth quickly so that she didn't startle the beast with claws that had Nate's face awfully close to it. ❝ I knew it, ❞ Cyn let out in fits of giggles, ❝ gosh, it really is true, a woman's intuition is never wrong. ❞

Nate's tactics had worked though and the terrorizer had made a run for it. She'd surprised herself with her reflexes and how quickly she'd stopped the demon trying to make a run for it. ❝ Because his ass deserves to be booked. A few nights in jail might turn him around. You know, if you believe in reform and all. ❞ The words came out slightly strained from her position but Nate thankfully took the feline off her hands. ❝ Maybe you should keep him. Seems to like you. But, we could take him by a vet? They could see if he has a chip. ❞

"Believe it or not, that wasn't a pick up line." Chuckling softly, Nate glanced over his shoulder at her. "I don't think I'm at my most alluring whilst I'm now being attacked by leaves. I'm just stating a fact, most of us are assholes." After the stunt he'd pulled on his ex, Nate could definitely be included in that, even if he didn't want to be.

"Don't cats like shiny things as well? I swear that's a thing." He'd never had a cat so he couldn't say either way but Nate wasn't opposed to trying anything if it helped him get out of the random bush quicker. "If you're about to tell me they also don't play with balls of wool, I'll have to ask you to refrain, it'll completely ruin my sunshine outlook on life."

It annoyed him somewhat that no matter what he tried, the cat didn't move and as much as he couldn't imagine being as much of an asshole as Cynthia had painted, he was starting to see something. "Oh, obviously. I've waited all this time to tell you that I love you whilst I'm stuck in a bush trying to rescue a terrorist cat. You caught me."

As soon as the cat moved, Nate began extricating himself from the bush and once he eventually got free and stood up, his eyes found Cynthia. He pressed his lips together to try to not laugh at the sight but he failed quickly. "You look like you're arresting him." Moving his hands to the cat, Nate nodded at her to let go before he took hold, holding the cat against his chest. For now, he seemed calm enough. "Does he need to go to a shelter or do we need to know who he belongs to?"

[cynthiasoriano]

»» ⸻ end of thread.

     Lips slightly parted, Cynthia, full of mirth, poked her tongue into the inside corner of her mouth as she watched Travis' dramatics completely enthralled. ❝ ⸻ Well, kudos to them—that's the most tactile topographical, ❞ lids fell shut over her eyes as she quietly laughed to herself and shook her head, not even able to say the full thing aloud, ❝ hold on, you have to—shape them? ❞ There was a moment that followed, the trouble of should she or shouldn't she ask warred on her face, and instead Cyn figured it was best not to know. ❝ I could probably go the rest of my life not knowing that information. It's true, though. You do have a striking resemblance to Barbie having a real rough go of it. ❞

There was a nod of her head in agreement. ❝ Some things never change, ❞ Cynthia mused, thinking back to the antics of Travis Marshall when they were young and much less burdened by life. Some of the things he said felt too kind, too generous, and like they'd come without earning them. ❝ Intimidating— ❞ She chewed on that for a moment, then shared her thoughts. ❝ Is that what a woman with a backbone is called these days? ❞ An easy, natural smile on her face. There was never a worry in speaking freely with him. ❝ Natural selection, sure. I just wish some men were willing to step up to the plate. ❞ Technically she was still young and there was still time. Other than the occasional questions from her mother, Cyn felt no hurry to find the one. There was a chance she'd resigned to the possibility that some people only got one go at that and she'd chosen way wrong.

❝ There you go, ❞ Cynthia sighed, shook her head, and crossed her arms against herself, ❝ feeding my delusions again. ❞ A flicker of amusement morphed her faux exasperation. ❝ You really are trouble. Don't let this big brain, ❞ she pointed to her head, ❝ go on thinking there's a chance. ❞ Mutual obsession. Pfft. 

Hand to her chest she silently pleaded with her own body to come back from the choking fit of laughter. There were still intermittent shakes of her shoulders as the quiet bits of giggles dissipated. ❝ Because breathing in lemonade is such a hot look? ❞ Your people's. At least there was nothing she had been in the midst of swallowing when her laughter started up again. ❝ Hmm, ❞ an attempt at seriousness, ❝ soooo does that mean you're not a plumber with leaky pipes at home? If you've listened and learned so well— ❞ Unfazed, Cynthia returned the wink while she smirked like she'd just made a bold move in a poker match.

Once settled, phone set aside again, content with the snaps taken, and her unbridled grin at him taking the Del Ray name so confidently without a hitch Cynthia did her best to listen to the pitch without thinking. ❝ There's nothing wrong with taking a chance, or in this case, dipping a toe in the water and testing the temperature, but— ❞ Why was there always one of those? It could've been due to her having been damn near fatally wounded in the realm of love and dating in the past. She was certainly cautious and gun-shy now. ❝ It's just sounding a lot like I might get stuck with someone that doesn't want to be there and spends the whole time looking for an exit. ❞ And she really wasn't for being set up to get embarrassed like that. ❝ Believe it or not, I trust your judgement, it's just—are you sure? ❞

Naturally, with Travis, a moment later Cynthia was bursting out with laughter again. Elbows landed on the table with a little thump and she buried her face in her hands as she lost it again. ❝ Cyn Parker? You just married me off and gave me and my husband Wes an ID channel show title. A cautionary tale from the beachside town in South Carolina. ❞ When she finally looked up at him, head shaking, fighting the grin on her lips, ❝ mama is gonna be so proud. ❞

As the dust settled and Cynthia eased into a more quiet and pensive state, chewing everything over and considering one too many scenarios, she appreciated the natural ebb and flow of spending time with Travis. Both conversation and silence were comfortable. That wasn't easily achievable with most people. At least he not only saw but agreed with her points about expectations, and it was refreshing to hear a man on her side of the debate. ❝ So, where is she? ❞ Cyn rested her chin on her shoulder as she peered at him. The description had been oddly specific. ❝ Ms Coconuts. ❞

People are cautious when they've been hit hard too many times. Him too? It wasn't just her? Already she'd imagined a possible rough start if neither knew where to begin or how to speak to each other because they were each overanalyzing the situation and looking for early signs of red flags. ❝ I get that, ❞ she'd said quietly, almost admitting the me too, ❝ just don't put too much pressure on him if he says yes. ❞

The curiosity of Travis in regards to how her father would react wouldn't be his problem and she began to grin and her eyes tried to find them in the crowd. Cynthia couldn't, at least not in the 45 seconds she spent scanning for them. ❝ My dad is so chill. He'd likely make a joke—'Cyn's into furries now?' ❞ To stifle the bit of laughter she bit at the inside of her cheek, though her gaze did flicker to the ears on Travis' head. ❝ It's my mom you have to worry about. Ever spent time with a Filipina mama? Do yourself a favor and don't sign anything. Don't agree to meet at a specific place on a specific day at a specific time. Especially if it sounds like city hall or a church. ❞ Life was very different where her mother had grown up, as much as Cyn joked though, her mother did support her daughter doing just fine on her own.

A smirk found grounds to appear at the low bar comment, yet it faltered the moment his question came and she began shaking her head. ❝ This is your doing. You set this up. So you get to finish the job. ❞ After a beat, she tacked on, ❝ or if you see me later when you're with him just point me out. ❞ If Wes couldn't make the approach then maybe that said all it needed to.

[cynthiasoriano]

🤍

[cynthiasoriano]

     Unable to keep it down, Cynthia let out a soft murmur of laughter, ❝ ⸻ Mango and Tuna. ❞ Her head shook as mirth invaded her entire expression. ❝ If I ever catch the orange demon we should get them together for playdates. They sound like they'd be a pair. ❞

The truck was gentle in the way it jostled her as it coasted along the road. Cynthia sat comfortably in the passenger seat despite getting a ride from a virtual stranger and looked over her neighbor's houses as they passed. ❝ You think so? ❞ Her hand found the ends of her ponytail as she turned her head to look at Enzo. ❝ I've always honestly been a little self-conscious about that. It's kind of funny, but I get that a lot, people not listening to podcasts much. ❞ Sometimes she was amazed along with her gratitude at being successful. ❝ If you're into books and reading then Bookish might be a good listen. Most listeners are into Diary of a Sinner because of the confessions. It's basically just getting to hear people's deep and dark secrets. ❞

When they stopped in front of her house Cynthia unfastened her seatbelt and shifted slightly in her seat to face Enzo. ❝ I usually keep the cauldron inside and the ghosts can't escape, so — ❞ With a laugh she shook her head slightly. The humor and sarcasm he tossed her way was refreshing, it meant he likely wasn't offended or sensitive to her own. ❝ Princess, ❞ she tsked, a faux warning, ❝ have to be careful with that. Your possible serial killer passenger might get attached. Spared your life and became obsessed. ❞ Might as well keep up the gag. Cynthia took the card he'd offered and read over it briefly. ❝ It's likely Mango that'll need saving from catching these hands, but—thanks. ❞ She indicated the business card, something she'd certainly keep in mind and went for the door. ❝ Mango will likely leave a dead bird on your doorstep to say thanks for thwarting the chase, ❞ Cynthia winked and slipped out of the truck. One last time she voiced her gratitude and then waved as she headed for her front door.

Enzo eased the truck down the street, casting a glance at the woman in his passenger seat. Cynthia's running shoes were still dusted with gravel, and her ponytail was slightly askew from the chase. But there was certainly little room to conceal a weapon beneath her skin-tight activewear.

“Mango?” the man shook his head in amusement. “I’ve got a cat myself. Well, a shop cat. He's a stray, like your little home invader, but we feed him and he has a cat flap for when he wants to come and go. We call him Tuna.”

As he rounded the corner onto her street, Cynthia's confession piqued his interest. While Enzo wasn't a big podcast listener himself, he definitely recognized at least one of the names she'd mentioned, likely from social media or conversations with friends and customers. “Podcast host, huh? You've definitely got the voice for it. I'll be honest, I don't listen to them much, but I might have to start."

Slowing to a stop in front of her place, Enzo shifted the truck into park and leaned his arm casually across the steering wheel as his eyes drifted to the passenger-side window. “This it? Not bad. I was expecting something a little more… haunted, if we’re sticking to our horror movie theme.”

When she offered to tip him through Venmo, he shook his head. “Save your money, podcast princess. This one’s on the house. Besides… It's the least I can do since you spared my life." Shifting in his seat, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card for Kelly's Auto. He didn't know whether he'd made a new friend or a customer today, but as he handed it over to Cynthia, he hoped it may be both. "Just so, you know... if you or Mango ever need backup again, you know where to find me.”

[cynthiasoriano]

     Lips slightly parted, Cynthia, full of mirth, poked her tongue into the inside corner of her mouth as she watched Travis' dramatics completely enthralled. ❝ ⸻ Well, kudos to them—that's the most tactile topographical, ❞ lids fell shut over her eyes as she quietly laughed to herself and shook her head, not even able to say the full thing aloud, ❝ hold on, you have to—shape them? ❞ There was a moment that followed, the trouble of should she or shouldn't she ask warred on her face, and instead Cyn figured it was best not to know. ❝ I could probably go the rest of my life not knowing that information. It's true, though. You do have a striking resemblance to Barbie having a real rough go of it. ❞

There was a nod of her head in agreement. ❝ Some things never change, ❞ Cynthia mused, thinking back to the antics of Travis Marshall when they were young and much less burdened by life. Some of the things he said felt too kind, too generous, and like they'd come without earning them. ❝ Intimidating— ❞ She chewed on that for a moment, then shared her thoughts. ❝ Is that what a woman with a backbone is called these days? ❞ An easy, natural smile on her face. There was never a worry in speaking freely with him. ❝ Natural selection, sure. I just wish some men were willing to step up to the plate. ❞ Technically she was still young and there was still time. Other than the occasional questions from her mother, Cyn felt no hurry to find the one. There was a chance she'd resigned to the possibility that some people only got one go at that and she'd chosen way wrong.

❝ There you go, ❞ Cynthia sighed, shook her head, and crossed her arms against herself, ❝ feeding my delusions again. ❞ A flicker of amusement morphed her faux exasperation. ❝ You really are trouble. Don't let this big brain, ❞ she pointed to her head, ❝ go on thinking there's a chance. ❞ Mutual obsession. Pfft. 

Hand to her chest she silently pleaded with her own body to come back from the choking fit of laughter. There were still intermittent shakes of her shoulders as the quiet bits of giggles dissipated. ❝ Because breathing in lemonade is such a hot look? ❞ Your people's. At least there was nothing she had been in the midst of swallowing when her laughter started up again. ❝ Hmm, ❞ an attempt at seriousness, ❝ soooo does that mean you're not a plumber with leaky pipes at home? If you've listened and learned so well— ❞ Unfazed, Cynthia returned the wink while she smirked like she'd just made a bold move in a poker match.

Once settled, phone set aside again, content with the snaps taken, and her unbridled grin at him taking the Del Ray name so confidently without a hitch Cynthia did her best to listen to the pitch without thinking. ❝ There's nothing wrong with taking a chance, or in this case, dipping a toe in the water and testing the temperature, but— ❞ Why was there always one of those? It could've been due to her having been damn near fatally wounded in the realm of love and dating in the past. She was certainly cautious and gun-shy now. ❝ It's just sounding a lot like I might get stuck with someone that doesn't want to be there and spends the whole time looking for an exit. ❞ And she really wasn't for being set up to get embarrassed like that. ❝ Believe it or not, I trust your judgement, it's just—are you sure? ❞

Naturally, with Travis, a moment later Cynthia was bursting out with laughter again. Elbows landed on the table with a little thump and she buried her face in her hands as she lost it again. ❝ Cyn Parker? You just married me off and gave me and my husband Wes an ID channel show title. A cautionary tale from the beachside town in South Carolina. ❞ When she finally looked up at him, head shaking, fighting the grin on her lips, ❝ mama is gonna be so proud. ❞

As the dust settled and Cynthia eased into a more quiet and pensive state, chewing everything over and considering one too many scenarios, she appreciated the natural ebb and flow of spending time with Travis. Both conversation and silence were comfortable. That wasn't easily achievable with most people. At least he not only saw but agreed with her points about expectations, and it was refreshing to hear a man on her side of the debate. ❝ So, where is she? ❞ Cyn rested her chin on her shoulder as she peered at him. The description had been oddly specific. ❝ Ms Coconuts. ❞

People are cautious when they've been hit hard too many times. Him too? It wasn't just her? Already she'd imagined a possible rough start if neither knew where to begin or how to speak to each other because they were each overanalyzing the situation and looking for early signs of red flags. ❝ I get that, ❞ she'd said quietly, almost admitting the me too, ❝ just don't put too much pressure on him if he says yes. ❞

The curiosity of Travis in regards to how her father would react wouldn't be his problem and she began to grin and her eyes tried to find them in the crowd. Cynthia couldn't, at least not in the 45 seconds she spent scanning for them. ❝ My dad is so chill. He'd likely make a joke—'Cyn's into furries now?' ❞ To stifle the bit of laughter she bit at the inside of her cheek, though her gaze did flicker to the ears on Travis' head. ❝ It's my mom you have to worry about. Ever spent time with a Filipina mama? Do yourself a favor and don't sign anything. Don't agree to meet at a specific place on a specific day at a specific time. Especially if it sounds like city hall or a church. ❞ Life was very different where her mother had grown up, as much as Cyn joked though, her mother did support her daughter doing just fine on her own.

A smirk found grounds to appear at the low bar comment, yet it faltered the moment his question came and she began shaking her head. ❝ This is your doing. You set this up. So you get to finish the job. ❞ After a beat, she tacked on, ❝ or if you see me later when you're with him just point me out. ❞ If Wes couldn't make the approach then maybe that said all it needed to.

Travis’s brows shoot up with theatrical offense at her opening line, hand clutching his own shirt dramatically like he’s just been hit with a holy relic. “Ma’am,” he jests with mock gravity, “I’ll have you know these nipples are under contract with the state of South Carolina. You don’t get this kind of topography without effort. You think I just woke up with them shaped like exclamation points?” He lets out a low chuckle, then adds in a half-whisper, “Also, yes, I have heard of nail polish remover. But Sadie hid it of course. Said it was ‘funny.’ So now I’ve got the hands of a Barbie going through a breakup.”

Her amusement only eggs him on, has him grinning across the table, one brow quirked. “There’s a lot to worry about me, darlin’. But none of it’s hazardous to your health. I don't think.”

As she confesses to the string of runoffs post-divorce, Travis tilts his head, sympathy and curiosity intertwining behind his eyes. “Painfully single, huh?” He taps the edge of his cup, as if thoughtful. “Sounds like a damn shame to me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the fellas out here lack both vision and fortitude.” Then, in a softer tone: “But you ain’t the problem, Cyn. You’re just… intimidating in a way most men ain’t built for. That ain’t a flaw. That’s natural selection at work.”

He barks a laugh at her laundry dig, only to lift both palms in surrender. “Guilty. Like a barn animal with Wi-Fi. But look, tie-dye’s come back in style, so really I’m just fashion-forward by accident.” Her swat draws a smug grin and then, a subtle shift of his hand to his heart like she’s just wounded him. “Your obsession? You wound me. I thought we agreed we’d pretend that was mutual.”

When her lemonade nearly causes a full-blown incident over the credit score comment, Travis leans forward, clearly enjoying her unraveling and loving every minute of it. “There it is. That was the goal. Break the composure.” Her accusation earns a small, knowing nod. “I’ve been roasted, seared, and served over brunch like a cautionary tale. But I listen, Cyn. That’s why I can quote your people’s commandments with reverence.” He offers her a wink, like the fool he is proud to be.

Her change of subject is granted without protest—though he takes a second to appreciate how she is both on edge and leaning in at once. It was a balance that looks good on her.

After the photo and her tease about the incoming DMs, he scoffs with faux arrogance. “Just make sure they spell my name right. Travis Del Ray. No hyphen. No shame.”

Then when her wince comes, it doesn’t escape his attention. That flicker of discomfort behind her eyes. “Okay, okay,” he softens ever so slightly, the grin easing off his lips and transforming into something a little more earnest, “Wes doesn’t know, but this ain’t a trap. I ain’t gonna shove you into a blind date like it’s ‘Love is Blind: Small Town Edition.’ I just think maybe—maybe—there’s something worth seeing through if you’re both in the right mood.”

He smiles at her car salesman jab, shoulders shaking. “Oh, I’ve tried. Turns out honesty and a face like mine makes people suspicious. Go figure.” But when she asks, deadpan, why it couldn’t be both poetic and chaos mixed together, Travis actually pauses. “You know what? You're right. I like that. Could be the tagline for your future romance novel or a future podcast episode: Restraining Orders & Reverie: The Cyn Parker Story.”

Her people-watching doesn't bother him. If anything, he lets her think, sip her lemonade, and piece it all together. It was in that quiet spell that he realized—Cynthia was the kind of woman who ran every possibility through four filters before she ever let herself hope. He gets it. He just hates that it has to be that way.

When she ranted—rightly so—about expectations, Travis winces like she’d just rattled his skeleton. “You ain’t wrong. Some of these guys want a woman who’s got a PhD and no sexual history. Like they’re draftin’ goddamn unicorns. Me? I’d rather have someone real. Someone who’s been through shit and still shows up ready to laugh over funnel cake and wears sunscreen that smells like coconuts.”

Then—finally—at her answer, Travis doesn't gloat. Not for long, anyway. His grin os much quieter now, more proud than anything else. “One date, Cyn. That’s all I’m askin’. And no, it ain’t about your pride. It’s about someone recognizing your worth without needing a footnote or a sales pitch. Even if he needs a nudge, that ain’t a reflection on you. It’s just... people are cautious when they’ve been hit hard too many times.”

At the comment about her parents, he laughs, full-bodied and loud enough to turn a few heads nearby. “Duly noted. I’ll steer clear of them then. Though I gotta admit, it’d be worth it just to hear your dad ask why a man in bunny ears thinks he’s even got a future with his daughter.”

At the warning about her being horrible on dates, his response is calm, sure, and just a little bit smug. “Good. Me too. We’ll set the bar so low y’all could trip over it and still fall into something half-way decent.” There's a beat, followed by one last question: “You want me to go tell him the good news? Or you want to have the honors?"

[cynthiasoriano]

     It'd been a dumb move. A lesson that was taught almost immediately as she'd arrived at the Holi celebration. Gulal landed right at her chest and upper abdomen and for a moment Cyn stood frozen in place. Served her right. She actually laughed before she even glanced to see the guilty party of who'd caught her with the brightly hued powder. The intention had been to check it out, to watch the fun, while also learning about the meaning and spirit of Holi.

❝ ⸻ I'm completely unarmed, Emil, ❞ her eyes found his but a smile was worn easily on her face, ❝ I don't even know where to grab the gulal, and I truly had no idea you had an inclination for unfair fights. ❞ Her fingers dusted away the concentration color and she took a few steps closer to him. ❝ So you do have a character flaw after all, ❞ Cyn mused, ❝ you'd always felt fictional to me in the past. ❞

When she looked down at her spring themed summer dress, something light and fun to keep her cool throughout the festivities and heat of the day, she worried if it was ruined. ❝ Do you know if this stuff washes out? And, more importantly, where do I get my hands on this powder? ❞ Cyn's eyes narrowed playfully. ❝ Your minutes are numbered. ❞

@cynthiasoriano The Spring Fling The target of several of his friends already during the Gulal Throw Party, Emil's face was smeared with a pink bright enough to match his shirt and his hair turned into a steady rainbow against dark curls. His shirt splashed with other clashing bright flecks of color. He'd spun on his heel, trying to catch someone who was treating the event like they were on a paintball field and artfully dodging through bodies. Regretfully, he missed. So, instead, the puff of baby blue landed on an entirely different but equally familiar individual. Cynthia. Sheepishly, Emil froze on the spot and held his hands up in a show of instant surrender. Unlike him, it was difficult tell if she was participating or simply an entirely innocent bystander that he'd just hit in friendly-fire. "Cyn..." the hint of a laugh colored his tone, and his initial cringe melted away into an easy lopsided grin. "That color really suits you?" As their high school baseball team's pitcher, his aim was usually much better but it was difficult to keep aim on a moving target as they weaved through a crowd.

[cynthiasoriano]

     ❝ ⸻ There's nothing tasteful about me being able to see the details of your nipples, ❞ Cynthia countered, then sipped her lemonade with the confidence of having made an excellent arguement. The flourish of his hand drew her attention and the moment Travis mentioned hot pink painted nails her eyes homed in on the fingertips begging for attention. Brow crinkled together, ❝ you have heard of nail polish remover, haven't you? ❞ Amusement began to display on her lips and Cyn tried her best not to fall into a fit of laughter. ❝ There's a lot more to worry about you, isn't there? ❞

As Travis shined her on, they seemed to speak each other's fluent language of sarcasm, she pinched at a piece of the funnel cake and was shaking her head before he could even finish the polish. ❝ Don't go giving me Olympic Gold yet, buster. I have been painfully single since my divorce—pretty sure all I do these days is run them off. ❞ When she had attempted dating, and not much of it over the years, it'd been so disappointing Cyn had stopped trying.

❝ Was that—tongue-in-cheek? ❞ The mention caused the unconscious gesture of pushing her tongue into the inside of her cheek for a moment. ❝ The stable one and you're out here living like a barn animal— ❞ Cynthia clutched at the pearls she wasn't wearing, maybe even gasped at the audacity to not separate his laundry. ❝ I thought you were just a big fan of pink and tie-dye, ❞ she shrugged her slender shoulders and feigned disappointment. ❝ Stop teasing me, ❞ a hand lightly swatted at him from across the table, ❝ how am I ever supposed to get over my obsession with you if you keep talking like that? ❞

Credit scores. Cynthia had to cover her throat as she nearly choked on the lemonade she'd tried to swallow down at the wrong time. Once she regained her composure, half laughing and half coughing, she waved her hand like a white flag. ❝ Lord help me, ❞ Cyn cleared her throat, ❝ it sounds to me like you've been drug out before the church and stoned a time or two—you've had your forfeit heart feasted on. No one's that accurate without some experience. ❞ Her brow lifted as a challenge was set. Tell her that she's wrong. ❝ You know what's sad? Y'all never actually learn. We can hand you all the secrets on how to do everything right and you'll still fuck it up. ❞ In that moment Cyn had to brush it all away, amusement on her lips, head shaking. ❝ We've gotta change the subject. Don't let me go on a 50K man hating run. ❞

The perfect break was taking a photo together. Something to commerate this moment in time. Once she was home later she'd post an entire carousel of what she'd caught and experienced throughout the Spring Fling. ❝ Stop acting like you had a choice. I was being polite. ❞ Travis was already posing so she grabbed her phone quick and snapped a couple of photos. Later on she'd pick the best of the crop and share. Before he gave up the bit Cyn leaned in so they could have a snap together and was half tempted to tag his brother later. ❝ I'm gonna get so many DMs about you, Travis Del Ray, ❞ she mused with a breathy laugh and set her phone down. 

❝ I'm not even sure I like funnel cake. ❞ Cynthia did like the sun, though. With her shoulders exposed she practically turned a shade darker being about under it's rays for the better part of the day thus far. ❝ If I had told you that then you would've known my secret. ❞ That grin of mischief formed again. Their now running joke cropping back up. She was only using his brother as a stepping stone to get to him.

Despite her previous comment Cyn broke off another small piece of the deep fried dough covered in powdered sugar and chewed on it as Travis went on about Wes Parker. She visibly winced at Wes not having a clue about her or that Travis was doing this setup, but she heard him out anyway. Mostly because she was intrigued on the sell. ❝ Have you ever tried to sell cars? I think you'd make a fortune if you could do customer service without haulin' off and hitting someone. ❞ A stifled grin dimpled her cheeks and she tried to swallow it down and get serious. To focus on what he'd presented. ❝ Why couldn't it be both—restraining order and something poetic? ❞ By the compatibilities Travis had listed off it did seem like a hypothetically good fit. Or, they were too similar in those things and would clash horribly. ❝ Don't touch me unless you mean it, ❞ Cyn breathed a sigh in then out, ❝ I like that. ❞

As Travis went on she continued to listen with her ear turned to him while she people watched a little bit. It was her pensive state, thinking things over, maybe a little too much, not exactly focusing her gaze on anything in particular. A reason to dress up and go out for a drink sounded good. The possibility of charmed company would be the sweet treat. Still, Cynthia had so much hesitation in starting. It wasn't just Wes Parker, it could be any name thrown into the hat, there was a big chance she'd get hurt down the road and Cynthia didn't want to go through that again.

What kind of life was she living, though?

❝ Honey, men judge women on the most asinine things. Don't even get me started. I mean, ❞ and there she was, starting, ❝ y'all want us to be the nastiest freaks in the sheets but completely virginal when you meet us and start dating us. ❞ Her head shook at not just the double standards but the layers of expectations. Women had to be perfect, and then men changed the definition of perfection. 

All Travis really had to do was ask. Cynthia wasn't a difficult person to convince. Beyond that, if it felt like a favor that could potentially be a good thing for herself as well, then it didn't take much. In a way, she was very soft like that. Appeasing, wanting to please and make others happy—even if it made her nervous and weary as hell. ❝ Alright, I'll do a drink, even if it hurts my pride quite a lot to know he has to be convinced to have a little social with me, ❞ Cyn agreed and tried to play it off. It was a way to make the little thread of anxiety not feel so real. 

❝ But please no—don't sit with my parents, ❞ she laughed and then tried to find them in the crowd for a quick second. ❝ They'll get the absolute wrong impression and will start grilling you on why I'm not good enough for you to marry. Save yourself. ❞ After she chugged down the remaining lemonade in her cup, having suddenly felt hot and parched, Cyn added, ❝ you'll definitely owe me a drink after. I am horrible on dates. ❞ Men usually hated sarcastic women.

Travis lets out a long, theatrical sigh that may’ve been better suited for a stage play rather than a spring fair, before leaning further back in his chair with the kind of dramatic flair that only comes from knowing you are being watched—and enjoying it.

“Vacuum sealed?” he repeats, eyes squinting like she’d just accused him of war crimes. “Now that’s just rude. I’ll have you know there’s a very thin line between tight and tastefully snug. And I walk it daily.” He taps a finger to his chest like he's pledging the allegiance, then gestures broadly. “Besides, how else am I supposed to distract from the fact that Sadie painted my nails neon pink last week and I’m still tryin’ to scrub the shit outta my cuticles?”

Her talk of the “psycho” girlfriend trope has him grinning wide and, nodding knowingly though. “You’re right, of course. The same fellas who post about wantin’ a ride-or-die are the first ones cryin’ when she shows up with her location shared and a bloodhound named Trust Issues. But see, you, Cyn—you wear it like armor. Scares the wrong ones off and draws the fools in. Helluva talent.”

At her compliment turned wink, he chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Guess that makes me the designated stable one at this table, which… is honestly terrifying. I don’t even separate my laundry by color. I just pray and hit the button.” His smirk then widens at her "dad bod" comment. “Careful now, sayin’ things like is how you end up with someone installin’ a porch swing on your future together. Right before they start talkin' about buying matching mugs.”

The jab about brunches and women’s secret support groups however, make him outright laugh. He tilts his head toward her with almost mock reverence. “Oh, I believe it. I’ve heard stories. Like y’all open the gates of Hell and release a council of ex-boyfriends to be roasted by name, star sign, and—God help him—his credit score.” He grins. “But hell yeah, I’ll keynote. Might be the only way I learn what not to do should I ever need to re-enter the dating pool and date a woman who has her life more together than I do.”

As her phone hits the table and she mentions capturing a picture, Travis raises his brows. “A photo? With you? While lookin’ this good?” He's exaggerating his own visual flair, even as he adjusts the bunny ears on top his head like a diva might flip her hair. “You know what? I’ll allow it. But only if we both try for the serious look—like we’re on the cover of some angsty indie-folk album titled Spring Fling Sadness.” He poses, half-joking while not quite stopping her from actually snapping the photo.

It's only after, they've been caught together on her camera roll that he notices the subtle change in her posture. In the way she settles in a bit more comfortably beside him, breathes a little easier. Her joke about becoming Jack and a dull boy, has him nodding. Not with agreeance but perhaps, understanding? “Well, we all need to get dragged out every now and then. Just to remind ourselves we still like the sun. And funnel cake.”

As for the topic of Wes? Travis’s grin comes back a little more slowly, a little more smug, like he’s just dropped the kind of conversation grenade that's gonna sit between them and hiss until it explodes. “Unresolved issues is your type? Damn, Cyn. I could’ve saved you a whole lotta heartbreak if you’d just told me that in high school.”

There's another smirk followed by the holding up of his hand like he's swearing into court. “Listen. Wes doesn’t know I’m doin’ this, actually. Not exactly. I mean, I mentioned your name the other day and he said, and I quote, ‘Who?’ So he’s obviously very intrigued already.” Travis chuckles again, in spite of himself. “But honestly? I think you two might be weirdly compatible. You both got that smartass streak, you’ve both been knocked around a bit by life, and you’ve both got a ‘don’t touch me unless you mean it’ vibe that could either end in a restraining order or something truly poetic.”

He grows a little more thoughtful, after swirling what was left of his lemonade. “And yeah, Cyn—it is a public service. I know you’re not charm school. I’m not throwin’ you into the ring to fix anybody. But maybe it’s less about ‘fixing’ and more about giving each other a break. A drink. A reason to dress up and remember you're not just your job or your history or your exes.”

Then, with a mischievous glint, he adds, “And yes, he would be interested. Divorcee or not. You really think a man who spends half his day up to his elbows in horse shit is judgin’ anyone’s past?”

There's a pause then, followed by a: “So what do you say? One drink. No pressure. I’ll even babysit your folks if you need an alibi for the night.” Upon leaning in, his grin grows sharp but fond. “Do it for science, Cyn. Or revenge. Or, you know… just ‘cause I said please and I'll buy you a drink after as you tell me how it went.”

[cynthiasoriano]

     ❝⸻ You're so full of questions, Ms Salazar, ❞ she couldn't resist the urge to tease, an amused look decorated her features as she watched the other woman for a moment. They were queries Cynthia wished she had the easy answers to. She supposed they kept coming due to her ability to answer on a base level thus far, though now they'd entered territory where she could only shrug and pull a face that said: your guess is as good as mine. ❝ I'd agree it's not good for the environment and I'm sure people pick up the debris of the ones they can find. Luckily this pollution is on a smaller scale. ❞ If only she could insist Sammie get into the moment and enjoy that but she'd gotten Cynthia into thinking about it much more deeply than it's purpose.

A smile slowly pulled back until she was grinning as Sammie laughed and mused on the moment. Cyn hadn't known the woman in her previous life, as her friend put it, she always seemed happy and content in this one though and achieving that state of mind, that state of peace, was the ultimate goal for herself. ❝ Yeah, you have any tips on that? ❞ Brow cocked, ❝ you know, the whole standing in this new life and enjoying it? ❞ It wasn't so much that Cynthia was unhappy, she was just becoming more and more aware that she hadn't given herself much outside of work in the last five years. A certain emptiness was felt with that. Once she'd slipped her phone backin her pocket, satisfied with the pictures she'd snapped, Cyn set her lantern aside next to Sammie's. ❝ I'm not sure. I've never thought about that. I don't think so, but I'm also of the mind that people should keep that to themselves anyway. Why, do you wanna share yours, or are you curious what mine is? ❞ Cynthia grinned.

"Oh," was all Sammie responded at first because with the answer her question felt dumb. Common sense should've told her that much but as per usual she wasn't one to dwell on those things so she moved on. For a moment she watched Cyn snap some pictures and figured they would be featured on her popular instagram. "Well what happens with the debris when it all falls back to the ground?" A little smirk formed because she was treating the woman like a Wikipedia page. "This can't be good for the environment and marine animals..." Sammie added, examining the lantern.

It didn't take long before her hypothetical was comforted by Cynthia and Sammie nodded her head, satisfied. "Let's hope I don't end up as your first." She set her lantern aside and leaned back against one of the tables. "I'm actually a little shocked myself," she laughed a bit, "but I feel like it makes the best sense for this moment to be here. You know? Standing in my new life and enjoying it." Knowing that she wasn't the only one that had to adjust to a life they hadn't expected, Sammie began to wonder something. "Is this like candles on a birthday cake? Where you can't say what you wished for or it won't come true?"