The night was fun. He was attractive — blond, tall, blue-eyed. She was, too — happy, flirty, her outfit a little too revealing, in the right way, inviting way.
Drinks filled glasses, and openness filled the air. Laughs, glances.
The city was drunk with linden perfume. Intoxicating.
When the hour grew late, she told him to stay in the present — whatever that meant then.
Present became everything that followed: the hiking the next day, the explorations, family.
Learning how joy and pain can grow in the same soil.
The linden trees bloom every year. She still catches the scent and feels that first night breathing back at her.
The present never really ended — it just kept unfolding, one step, one season, one heartbeat at a time.
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