On the walk back to the boutique, the air felt fresher, as though the city had quietly changed while we were eating. A light breeze moved through the streets, carrying the faint scent of baked bread from a bakery we passed and the sharper tang of coffee from a roaster down the block. We didn’t rush. There was no reason to. The orders were still waiting, but the urgency had been replaced with something slower, something that matched the pace of our footsteps.

Claudia told a small story about ...