A damp hand reached across the table, covering hers. "The wind only carries you where you’re meant to go, Yaprak. And I’m not letting you land anywhere without me."
"I told you the bridge would be blocked," a familiar, breathless voice said. Zeynep Yaprak Imkansizim
The cafe door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air and the scent of wet asphalt. A figure stepped in, dripping wet, holding a helmet under one arm. Yaprak froze. The figure didn't head for the counter; they walked straight toward her table. A damp hand reached across the table, covering hers