shiloh sits on the low step just outside the shop, back resting against the doorframe, an orange peeled halfway in their hands, the rind curling loosely against their fingers as the afternoon settles into something slower. inside, islavia moves between the tables with quiet focus, stems lifted and set down with care, the soft rustle of paper and leaves slipping through the open doorway. shiloh watches for a moment, then glances at the orange, turning it before pulling a slice free.

“if i start charging per bouquet, i might finally afford a break longer than this,” they say, more to the air than anything, though there’s a small smile tugging at it, and they take a bite, letting the sweetness sit there while the shop continues on behind them.

the stall had been nothing more than a scatter of forgotten things under sun-faded fabric, a place where objects waited without expectation, and shiloh had not meant to stop, not really, until their fingers closed around something small and familiar, the shape of it fitting too easily in their palm. the figure was worn just enough to suggest it had been carried once before, edges softened, paint slightly dulled, and yet it held its form with insistence, a fragment of a galaxy pressed into something no bigger than a breath.

they turn it between their fingers, thumb brushing over the tiny details, a flicker of recognition passing through them neither loud nor sudden but certain, it’s the one that settles rather than startles. the booth person says something about price and rarity but shiloh is already reaching for it and already deciding without needing to name it.

as the light stretches wider, the day carrying that familiar date in its bones, and shiloh pauses just long enough to lift the little figure into view, a small, deliberate gesture, as if placing it back into the story it came from.

“hello there, drash. found you in the most unremarkable corner,” they say, half to the figure, half to the day itself, a smile pulling through in a way that lingers, “guess that still counts.”

they slip it carefully into their pocket, something settled there alongside it, and step forward again, the world continuing as it always does, only slightly altered.

“may the fourth be with you.”