The shopping bags clinked against each other as the trio made their way through the last stretch of the mall.
Martha was glowing… sunglasses back on like a crown of triumph, two shopping bags in each hand.
Hannah was walking backwards, giddy, holding up her phone for selfies with Jean in the background.
And Jean?
Jean was smiling. A real one.
Her heels clicked steadily on the polished floor as they stopped in front of a cinnamon roll stall that smelled like heaven… warm sugar, soft bread, caramel glaze melting over swirls of cinnamon.
"This," Martha declared dramatically, "is the reward for surviving retail."
"It smells like diabetes," Jean teased.
"It smells like comfort," Hannah corrected. "And we are treating ourselves today."
Before Jean could protest, she found herself standing in front of the glass display, handed a gooey cinnamon roll dripping with icing, the kind that would normally terrify her in public. But today… she felt oddly okay with it.
