The scent of melted cheese and fresh basil hit the moment we pushed through the glass doors. Warm chatter filled the small pizzeria, families and couples crowded around checkered tables, forks clinking against plates. It was cozy, a little loud, and exactly what my empty stomach needed.
We claimed a booth by the window as the sun pierced through it. Aria tossed her sunglasses on the table like she owned the place. The light had that golden, late-afternoon sharpness, too early for dinner but late enough that the place was buzzing with families in post-school chaos and couples grabbing an early bite. Outside, traffic moved in steady streams, the city not yet at rush-hour frenzy.
