Jordan dipped her brush into the sapphire-blue paint and let it swirl. The late morning sun slanted through the café window, casting warm patterns on the worn wooden floor. The smell of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked croissants drifted around her. She put brush to canvas, trying to capture the way sunlight pooled on the street outside. Jordan glanced up from her easel when a gentle laugh floated in. She had thought of him again—of the tall man who had sat across the room from her yesterday afternoon, sipping his black coffee and reading something on his laptop. Something about him had made her look up, even though she hardly noticed anyone around while she sketched.
He had said something simple—a compliment about the painting, or maybe about the light. She couldn't recall the exact words, only that he had sounded genuine. Jordan smiled a little, remembering how flustered she felt in that instant, her cheeks coloring slightly as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She had managed to thank him, feeling oddly shy. Then he had packed up and left quietly, his books and papers under one arm, as if he might stumble into something on the way out. Jordan had watched him go with a small smile on her face, feeling unexpectedly lighter.
A chill wind tickled her arm, bringing Jordan back to the present. She shivered and wrapped her cardigan around her shoulders more tightly, but her thoughts drifted back to the moment. She added more yellow to the corner of the canvas to brighten the sunlight. Something about the way the sun glinted off that man's dark hair yesterday made her want to capture all light in the world today. Finishing her current stroke, she stepped back to look. The painting was almost done—a cozy autumn street corner with cafés and crinkling leaves.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Sasha, her younger sister, popped up: "Hey! Lunch at 1? Got a new café to try." Jordan smiled. She loved that her small but friendly sister always wanted to spend time together. Wrapping up her painting supplies, she texted back: "See you there!"
As she gathered her paints, the barista called out, "Another caramel latte for Jordan!" She grinned and went to pick it up. The rich aroma of caramel and coffee warmed her. She took a careful sip as she left, bumping slightly into an incoming customer, apologizing with a small smile. The latte was a bit hotter than she expected, and she blew on it, laughing softly at herself. Typically she ordered tea, but today a latte felt like a cozy treat.
Jordan walked down the sunlit streets toward a small park where she often sat with Sasha. The world was busy around her—a cyclist whirring by, an elderly man feeding pigeons, children playing nearby—but her mind kept wandering back to the café. Her cheeks warmed at another flicker of that memory. What had the man been writing on his laptop? Was he a writer, or a student, or something else? She wondered if maybe she would run into him again someday.
"Jordan!" Sasha's voice broke into her thoughts. Her sister jogged up in front of her, hair in a messy bun and backpack slung over one shoulder. Sasha always looked lively and a little wild, with mismatched socks or some new button on her jacket. "Sorry I'm late," Sasha panted, "I got stuck behind a snail-lane of teenagers outside the school. Whose idea was it to let four classes pass at once?"Jordan laughed warmly. "It's fine. I got here a minute ago, actually."
They settled on a wooden bench in the park. Jordan took another sip of her latte. The warm milk comforted her as she watched Sasha rummage through her bag for chips."Sooo," Sasha began, pulling out a bag of garlic-and-herb chips and offering one to Jordan. "Weekend plans? Did you ask out that cute—I mean… did you ever see that boy again at the coffee shop?" She nudged Jordan playfully.Jordan nearly choked on her latte and sputtered, causing Sasha to laugh. "What? How could you tell I was thinking about that?" Jordan's heart sped up.Sasha tossed a chip at her. "You're practically glowing. I think your cheeks are still pink!"Jordan looked away, suddenly interested in the path of an ant on the bench. "Maybe he just needed a good latte," she mumbled defensively.Sasha punched her shoulder lightly. "Stop being so defensive!"Jordan let out a soft laugh. She felt both embarrassed and strangely happy. Sasha had always known how to find out the truth, even when Jordan pretended not to. The playful teasing gave her courage though; maybe, just maybe, it wasn't crazy that she couldn't stop thinking about a friendly stranger.
They chatted about their days in bits and pieces. Sasha told Jordan about an art exhibition at her college, and how she had tried to sneak in for inspiration for her photography blog. Jordan teased her about her "creative infiltration." In return, Jordan confessed she had spent her morning mixing paints into a café scene, and Sasha whistled appreciatively. "We should hang our art together sometime.""Maybe," Jordan said, her mind elsewhere. She thought about the midday sun, the drift of steam from Sasha's hot soup, and the gentle thrill of Sasha's teasing. She mentioned the man from the café to make polite conversation, playing down how much she had noticed him. Sasha just laughed and poked her side. "Trust me, you noticed him. I'm picking up what you're putting down, Jules Reyes."Jordan rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. Sasha clapped her hands. "Enough of this. I've got gossip: guess who's dyeing her hair purple next week?"Laughing, Jordan leaned back. She always loved how Sasha could switch topics so dramatically. It was a helpful distraction. She watched the leaves move in the breeze and thought about buying purple eyeshadow for Halloween costumes. Later, she said goodbye to Sasha and headed home, the day still humming softly in her chest.
At home, Jordan changed into her pajamas and settled at her desk, laptop open. Her freelance project was a logo design for a small bakery; she clicked through some pastel color palettes and arranged letters on her screen. She worked with one hand while sipping tea with the other, headphones on, gazing sometimes out the window. The sky turned a soft apricot as dusk approached. A winter breeze rattled the window, making the wind chime sing outside.
Her phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from her mother: "Dinner's ready, sweetie!" She saved her work, turned off her computer, and went downstairs. In the kitchen, her parents sat smiling—her mother stirring vegetable soup, her father chopping herbs. The house smelled like onion and parsley, familiar and comforting. "How was your day?" her father asked, handing Jordan a bowl.
Jordan slurped the soup and recounted a bit about her day, careful to keep things light. She omitted her daydreaming moment with the stranger, noticing how her parents smiled at her smile. After dinner, as sunlight faded, Jordan slipped back to her room and grabbed her journal. The pages had sketches of leaves and lines of poetry from days past. She carefully wrote the date at the top of a new page and began to scribble about her thoughts.
A faint smile played on her lips as she dipped her pen into purple ink. She wrote about sunlight and warmth, about cinnamon lattes and leaves dancing in the autumn air. Tentatively, she described a stranger with kind eyes who had paused by her table. She noted how in that moment, something had flickered between them, however small. Jordan closed the book with a sigh. Why did he remain so clear in her mind? It was silly, maybe. But as the last of the day's light drifted out of the window, Jordan couldn't help but feel something like hope flutter quietly.
Tomorrow, she decided, she might go back to the same café. Who knew, maybe she'd see that gentle stranger once more. But for now, she tucked her journal under her pillow and turned off the light, warmed by the memory of a smile she couldn't forget.