The Red Thread

The rain had been falling all morning, soft and steady, turning the town into a watercolor painting. Mia ducked into the tiny bakery on the corner, her hair damp, her glasses fogging instantly.

“Rough day already?” the baker, Theo, asked with a grin. He was dusted in flour as usual, like a human snow globe.

“You have no idea,” Mia sighed. “Please tell me you still have the peach tarts.”

Theo winced. “I have… one.”

Mia’s shoulders slumped. “Just one? Those are the best thing holding my life together right now.”

Before he could reply, the door opened again, and a man stepped in—equally drenched, equally desperate-looking.

“Please tell me you have peach tarts,” he said, breathless.

Mia and the man locked eyes. Then looked at the single tart. Then at each other again.

An awkward silence settled like powdered sugar.

Theo blinked. “Uh… rock, paper, scissors?”

Mia crossed her arms. “No way. I am not trusting my breakfast to fate.”

The man laughed. “Good, because I lose at everything involving luck.”

They both stared at the tart again.

Then Mia sighed, softening. “Okay… we can split it.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Share a tart with a stranger?”

“Why not?” she shrugged. “It’s raining. We’re already miserable. Might as well be miserable together.”

Theo cut it in half, handing each of them a warm slice. They sat at the small table near the window, eating in comfortable silence while the rain tapped softly outside.

“This is the best thing I’ve tasted all week,” the man finally said.

“Same,” Mia replied. “I’m Mia, by the way.”

“Elias.”

When they finished, Elias stood to leave, but paused.

“Hey… would you—maybe—want to come back again sometime? I’ll buy a whole tart next time so we don’t have to share.”

Mia smiled. “I don’t mind sharing. It made the day a little brighter.”

Elias hesitated, cheeks coloring. “Then… how about tomorrow?”

She nodded. “Tomorrow.”

As he stepped back into the rain, Mia noticed something.

It didn’t look quite as gray anymore.