Scarlett Rose kept her phone face-down on the café table, the November light slicing through the steam of her latte like a promise. Across from her, Dakota Qu tapped the edge of his cup, eyes tracing the chipped rim as if reading some invisible map.
Outside, the street hummed with strangers who’d all decided, for reasons they kept to themselves, to walk faster today. Scarlett watched a child chase a pigeon and felt suddenly absurd for being still.
Scarlett Rose and Dakota Qu — updated, 24/11/26
“Possibly.” Dakota’s gaze lifted to meet hers, honest and tired. “There’s a residency — two months. New collaborators. It’s… an opportunity.”