Page 73 of Five Years
Above, buildings towered over her, their glass and steel facades reminding her how microscopic she was in such a powerful city. The typical hurried pace was softened by the holiday season. The crunch of her boots on the icy pavement stood out against the muffled hum of traffic.
She loved New York.
There was always a sense of something larger at work in this city—something optimistic, even among the turned-down faces hiding from the cold. And for a brief moment, it felt like the whole city was holding its breath with Leah, in quiet support of whatever her future might look like. A promise of what lay ahead. It was magical. Leah couldn’t explain how a city of steel and concrete had the power to make people feel so seen, so determined, so hopeful for what was coming—even when the unknown was terrifying.
She stuffed her hands into her pockets, her feet stopping outside a green storefront. The area felt so familiar. She’d only been here a handful of times, yet she was sure if asked, she could direct someone from any point in the city to this very spot.
The sign on the door read:Generous Portions and Unbeatable Flavour.They weren’t wrong. She stalled, standing off to one side as locals rushed in and out with their evening meals. There was still time to turn back. She couldn’t see Ariana. There were a dozen excuses she could use to walk away.
The familiar smell of garlic and melted cheese drifted out onto the street. For a moment, Leah let herself get lost in the memory of this place—of laughter shared, of late nights, of Ariana’s arm wrapped around her body, of experimenting with new flavours with someone who once meant everything to her.
Then, she felt it—the unmistakable presence of someone standing right behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was Ariana. The perfume gave her away. A scent Leah could never forget.
“You know what they say—” Ariana started.
Leah smiled. “The best kind of pizza comes on a paper plate.”
She shifted nervously, glancing at the door and then back at Ariana.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” Ariana said.
“Of course. You know me and commitments,” Leah said awkwardly. They were both uncertain—still learning how to breathe in the same space again.
“I’m glad you did.” Her throat tightened.
“Me too.”
Something about Ariana’s presence was so disorientating—it kept Leah rooted to the spot.
Ariana nodded, a half-smile forming, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s good to see you.”
Leah exhaled. “You too.”
“Let’s go inside.” Ariana led the way.
The warmth of the pizzeria wrapped around them like a thick blanket after the chill of the street. It felt oddly familiar to Leah, like they’d done this a thousand times before. The noise of the kitchen, the hum of conversation—everything was just as she remembered from the last time they were here. Everything except them.
They ordered at the counter, opting for the daily special—chicken, bacon, ranch, and mozzarella. The man behind the counter gave them both a knowing look, as though he could sense their hesitation. He’d probably seen their kind of reunion a hundred times before.
They moved to a small round table by the window, sitting across from each other in the dim light. The pizza arrived quickly, barely giving them time for anything beyond a mundane conversation about their respective workdays.
Leah cleared her throat. “I remember how much you used to love ranch.”
“I haven’t changed.” Ariana smiled.
“Ranch on anything and everything that required a dip. Do you still pour it on top of your avocado toast for breakfast?” Leah cringed.
“Oh, you bet. It elevates the avocado.”
“I beg to differ.” Leah laughed. “Tell me, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve tried it on?”
“Now you’re testing me. . .let me think . . .key lime pie?”
“No. Absolutely not. That’s just wrong.”
“There was one very brief second of repulsion during the transition period, but then, weirdly, it didn’t even taste that bad.”
“How did you even get to that point? Was it a dare?” Leah asked.
