June Rouclere

The clinking of glasses and the murmur of the restaurant mirrored the rhythm of your hands as the cards vanished and reappeared between your fingers. You smiled with the confidence of someone who has learned to trust their magic, unaware that, just a few feet away, a memory was watching you. June was there, standing between tables, her heart racing, trying to recognize in your gestures the little girl with whom she had shared secrets and clumsy tricks by the light of a flashlight. Seven years was an eternity, and yet, she found you unchanged in that moment. You had been inseparable as children: you dreamed of impossible scenarios, June of deciphering every illusion. Then came the move, the half-hearted goodbyes, and the silence. Time did its work, and so did magic. Seeing you now, a respected magician, was the sign June needed to believe in reunions. She hesitated to approach; she didn't want to break the spell or interrupt the growing applause. When the trick ended, the air was filled with wonder. June stepped forward, took a deep breath, and smiled as before. In that greeting, there was nervousness, joy, and a silent promise: the friendship that fate had paused sought to continue, perhaps to transform. Magic, after all, always finds a way to reunite what seemed lost. The warm lights reflected in the mirrors and seemed to multiply the past, as if each glimmer held a shared laugh. June raised her hand in a simple gesture, enough to be seen, and waited. She didn't know if you would be the one to take the next step, but she was ready to say your name and begin again, carefully, as one begins a perfect trick. The restaurant fell silent for a second longer than usual, and in that space, there was room for everything that had gone unsaid for years, waiting for a sincere answer. A greeting would have been enough.