8

Forrest

The early morning sun painted Sienna's hair with warm, golden hues, intensifying the fiery red of her tresses. As I approached her, the light seemed to dance and sparkle in her hair, creating an enchanting aura around her.

"Seventeenth morning in a row?" she asked when she noticed me.

"I'm just checking on the pumpkins," I shrugged.

Truth be told, I found myself irresistibly drawn to her. I was captivated by how she could paint the world in vivid hues and breathe life into the simplest interactions .

Sienna possessed an enchanting ability to transform the mundane into the magical, infusing even the most commonplace moments with a captivating spark of wonder. She drew my attention to insignificant, beautiful details I had never noticed. The way the sunlight dappled through the autumn leaves, creating shifting shadows on the sidewalk. The gentle curl of a cat's tail as it slinked past. The single weed that grew through the pavement in front of her bakery. However, she refused to call it a weed.

"Weeds are just wildflowers without a home," she told me when she pointed it out. "If that flower were in a field, it would be called a wildflower. But because it's on the sidewalk, it's called a weed. To me, it's still a wildflower."

It was as if she had a sixth sense for beauty, for magic hidden in the most ordinary places. Every moment spent in the presence of Sienna was a chance to experience the world with fresh eyes, through her unique perspective. The colors seemed brighter, and the scents more intense.

How could I stay away?

"That's what you said yesterday," she replied.

"Okay," I said, my head slumping down. "You caught me. I am addicted to your pumpkin spice cream cheese. I'm using the jack-o'-lanterns as an excuse." I lifted my hands in surrender.

Her lips parted and a delicate, melodic laugh escaped from them. The sound was soothing, like the clinking of wind chimes. Suddenly, an older woman entered the bakery, her presence commanding respect. The air seemed to grow still as she approached the counter, her gaze sweeping over the bakery with a knowing gleam in her eye.

"So good to see you, Athena!" Sienna said. "Forrest, can you give us a second?"

"Oh, no need for that," the older woman, Athena I assumed, replied. "I'm just stopping in for a quick pastry. You two carry on."

Feeling self-conscious, I extended my hand to the older woman. The skin on her face was weathered and wrinkled, but her eyes held a sharpness that made me feel exposed. "I'm Forrest," I said, introducing myself. "I just moved to town."

She glanced at my outstretched hand but didn't make a move to shake it. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she replied, "So I've heard." Her tone was curt, which only made me regret speaking to her in the first place .

Sienna quickly packed two spiced pear muffins for the woman, handing the treats to her with a sorrowful expression.

"Come by this evening, Sienna," Athena said. "I'll be waiting."

Sienna offered her a single, seldom nod before Athena stepped out of the front door. Her long skirt swished around her legs, the fabric threatening to catch on the door frame, but she gracefully avoided any mishaps.

"What was that about?" I asked.

Sienna jumped at the sound of my voice as if she'd forgotten I was there. "Nothing," she said, the familiar, warm smile returning. "The usual? Plain bagel, toasted, with pumpkin spice cream cheese?"

"Yes, please," I said, my stomach growling. "Athena didn't seem too fond of me."

Before Sienna could respond, three young girls burst into the bakery, their pigtails bouncing with their steps. Their bright eyes sparkled with anticipation as they ran up to the counter.

"I'll have a cardamom bun!" The first announced.

"Me too! "

"I want a coffee cake doughnut! Please!" The eldest requested.

"Please!" The two younger girls said in unison, their voices desperate. They had both forgotten to use the magic word with their initial request.

"Excellent choices, ladies!" Sienna's face lit up as she spoke to the girls. It was as though all her worries and concerns had vanished the moment they walked into her bakery. She carefully packed the girls' treats, giving them each an extra surprise in their bag.

There was a certain magnetism in the way Sienna moved and spoke, drawing my attention like a moth to a flame. I couldn't look away, mesmerized by her effortless grace and genuine interactions with others. Her outward appearance was stunning, but her inner glow captivated me. Like a fire on a cold winter's night, her soul warmed those around her. It was a rare and precious quality that made me want to bask in her presence.

"Thank you, Sienna!" The girls' voices rang out loud and clear, echoing off the walls. Their words were hurried before they darted out of the shop as swiftly as they had entered.

"I promise, I didn't forget about you, Forrest," she said, handing me my toasted bagel.

"Thank you," I said as I accepted it. "And thank you for being my only friend in town."

"Oh, Forrest—" Sienna began.

Wait, was I not even in the friend zone?

"I knew small towns were extremely tight-knit before moving here," I said, "but I didn't know it was this extreme. Maybe I should have visited first."

"Do you like it here?" Sienna asked.

"I do," I admitted. "There's something different about Cider Falls, I just can't put my finger on it."

"Oh, that's just how small towns are," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Lots of history, lots of quirks. You'll catch on soon enough."

"I hope so."

"I'm glad you're here," she said, catching me off guard.

The front door's creak announced another customer's arrival, and Sienna's attention was momentarily diverted. Wanting to avoid scaring off any of her patrons, I quietly slipped out of the bakery and made my way to my bar .

"Mike!" I yelled when I opened the surprisingly unlocked front door. "Are you in here?"

"Back here!" My contractor's familiar voice shouted back.

As I rounded the corner, I found Mike with a measuring tape in hand, carefully recording numbers on a clipboard as he stood in front of the far wall.

"What are you doing?" I asked. Every aspect of the plans had already been painstakingly outlined, with exact dimensions for every part of the area accounted for. It seemed as though he simply had nothing better to do.

"Oh, I'm just checking a few things," Mike said. "I want this place to be in tip-top shape for your customers."

"Mike, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you the least bit interested in having a drink here? Watching sports here?" I asked. "Are your friends?"

"Well, I don't have much interest in sports," Mike explained, not stopping his meaningless task.

"What do you and your buddies do for fun?" I asked .

"I mean, we all have different interests. Some of us attend the local crochet club. Some prefer the book club or the cooking club. The garden club is also popular."

"A crochet club?" I repeated him, and he nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with a man crocheting. Hell, it even seemed like a tough craft to master. But something just didn't sit right with me.