Autumn in Rivendale — Chapter 3

Her sister noticed before she did, which was, in retrospect, exactly how these things always seemed to go.

“You’re doing the thing,” her sister said over the phone, in a tone that made further explanation entirely unnecessary.

“I am not doing a thing.”

“You’re doing the thing where you talk about someone’s coffee order for four full minutes and don’t notice you’re smiling the entire time.”

She hadn’t noticed. She noticed now, and spent the rest of the call trying, unsuccessfully, to argue her sister out of a conclusion that was — she would admit this to precisely no one — almost certainly correct.