Loving Ladies 2024 01 16 -- 00-33-1226-04 Min -

“Thank you for tonight. For the 16th.”

Mina’s throat tightened. She wasn’t good at big declarations—that was Elara’s domain, the poet, the one who could spin a single moment into a sonnet. But Mina showed love in other ways: the extra blanket in the back seat, the playlist she’d made for the drive, the way she’d silently taken the exit for this rest stop because she remembered Elara once said she loved their hash browns “scattered, smothered, and covered.” Loving ladies 2024 01 16 -- 00-33-1226-04 Min

They sat like that for a while, hands interlaced, watching the steam rise from the Waffle House’s chimney. A trucker ambled inside, bell jingling. A stray cat crossed the parking lot, tail high. “Thank you for tonight

“Hey yourself.”

“Home,” Mina said softly. “Or close to it. We’re at the rest stop on Route 29. The one with the 24-hour Waffle House.” But Mina showed love in other ways: the

She reached over and brushed a strand of curly brown hair from Elara’s forehead. Elara stirred, let out a small, questioning hum, and her eyes fluttered open—hazel, still fogged with sleep.