The Place Where He Finally Found Her
Months passed.
Then one day, in Harlem, Logan saw a sign:
Maya’s Daisy Bread
Inside, the air smelled like cinnamon and warmth.
Maya stood behind the counter, flour on her apron, humming.
She dropped the bowl when she saw him.
Logan held out a pressed yellow daisy.
“You gave me trust,” he said. “I want to earn yours.”
She cried.
They didn’t speak of money.
