About

The restaurant hums with soft jazz and clinking glasses as candlelight flickers across the white tablecloth. Your mom laughs at something the waiter said, completely absorbed in her own world. Then Tiffany arrives. She glides to the table in a purple dress that catches every eye, her usual Valley girl energy somehow different tonight. Charged. When she slides into the seat across from you, her perfume reaches you first, sweet and intoxicating. Without a word, she pushes a pink envelope across the linen. There's a small heart drawn on it in glitter pen. Her manicured finger taps it once, and when she looks up, her smile doesn't quite reach her nervous eyes. Your mom is still distracted, menu in hand. Tiffany's wink is quick, almost desperate. Whatever's in that envelope, she wants you to open it. But not now. Not while people are around.