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Romantic Feelings?

Author: Honey
last update Last Updated: 2025-05-09 23:49:25
(TODD’S POV)

“Welcome home, Todd. I hope you had a good day.” Maddie’s calm voice greeted me the moment I stepped through the front door.

She stood ramrod straight in the middle of the foyer, a warm smile on her kind face. As always, her hands were clasped neatly in front of her simple, dark dress and clean apron. Her silver hair was the only clue that she was sixty-three years old—everything else about her seemed timeless.

“Thanks, Maddie,” I said with a tired sigh. She fell into step beside me as I headed for the stairs, something she did when she sensed I needed company.

“Would you like me to bring you something to eat?” she offered.

“That’s alright,” I said, holding up the wrapped pie. “Rosalie sent me home with some apple pie.”

Maddie nodded, her smile gentle. “That’s fine then.”

We walked down the carpeted hallway toward my room, our footsteps quiet in the big, empty house. “How are you feeling about the game tomorrow?” she asked.

I shrugged, not really wanting to think a
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  • When Best Friends Kiss   The Ghost.

    The first response to Todd’s failure report didn’t come as a text notification or a legal summons. It arrived forty-eight hours later in the form of a small, unmarked wooden crate left by the front gate, smelling faintly of damp cedar and woodsmoke. Inside, nestled in a bed of dried pine needles, were three glass vials of a milky, translucent liquid and a handwritten note on heavy cardstock: “The blight in your peppers isn’t an enemy; it’s a symptom of a monoculture mindset. Inoculate the root zones. The birch sends its regards.”Todd held one of the vials up to the morning light. After years of dealing in the sterile, binary world of high-frequency trading, where "liquidity" was a metaphor for cash flow, holding actual, biological liquidity felt like holding a live wire.“Who is 'The Birch'?” Rory asked, peering over the edge of the table, his fingers sticky with peach juice.“A node,” Todd said, more to himself than the boy. “A neighbor we haven't met yet.”The transformation of the

  • When Best Friends Kiss   The Mycelial Handshake

    The silence that followed Aris Thorne’s offer wasn’t the heavy, defensive silence of the courtroom; it was the quiet of a forest floor, dense with potential. Todd looked down at the desiccated seeds in Aris’s palm, then at Rory’s small, inquisitive face. For months, Todd’s genius had been focused on exclusion—on building walls of glass and legal precedent to keep the world’s noise from polluting his sanctuary. Aris was suggesting that the very walls meant to protect the garden might eventually starve it.“Participation,” Todd said, the word sounding foreign in his mouth. “Participation implies a loss of control.”“It implies a shift in scale,” Aris corrected gently. He walked over to a nearby planter, his eyes tracing the intricate trellis system Todd had engineered. “In the old world, the one you left, information was a weapon. You hoarded it to create an edge. In the Understory, information is an immune system. If your neighbor’s crop fails, your own is more vulnerable to the pests

  • When Best Friends Kiss   The Hummingbird and the Blueprint

    The lawsuit’s withdrawal didn’t bring silence. It brought a different kind of sound. The world, having failed to reclaim Todd through legal force, began to whisper. The story, polished and re-framed, seeped out—not as a tale of corporate defeat, but as a curious footnote in business journals: “The Quant Who Grew Figs.” Eleanor, it seemed, had talked, her silk blouse stained with more than just fruit. The image of the former high-frequency trading phenom, handing out figs in a greenhouse while wearing a sleeping infant, proved strangely compelling to a culture weary of its own abstraction.The first letter arrived on thick, artisanal paper. It was from a lifestyle magazine, requesting a “photo essay.” Then came the email from a tech visionary wanting to discuss “bio-integrated systems.” A documentary filmmaker left a voicemail, her voice hushed with reverence. They all wanted a piece of the parable. They wanted to stand in the humidity, to taste the fig, to briefly borrow the terrifyin

  • When Best Friends Kiss   The Weight of the First Bloom

    The transition from a biological future to a biological reality occurred at three in the morning, under a moon that turned the greenhouse glass into a sheet of frosted silver. Rory arrived not with the sharp, clinical efficiency of the world Todd had abandoned, but with a primal, messy urgency that defied any projection. When the first cry finally broke the stillness of the nursery, it didn't sound like a disruption; it sounded like the final piece of the garden’s ecosystem clicking into place.By the time Rory was three months old, the "learning garden" Todd had built was no longer a theoretical project. It was a lived-in landscape. Todd moved through the greenhouse with the baby strapped to his chest in a dark canvas carrier, the infant’s head bobbing against the rhythm of Todd’s heartbeat. The high-frequency trader who once calculated risks in milliseconds now spent forty minutes explaining the architecture of a single nasturtium leaf to a human who couldn't yet speak."Look at the

  • When Best Friends Kiss   The Weight of the First Bloom

    The transition from a biological future to a biological reality occurred at three in the morning, under a moon that turned the greenhouse glass into a sheet of frosted silver. Rory arrived not with the sharp, clinical efficiency of the world Todd had abandoned, but with a primal, messy urgency that defied any projection. When the first cry finally broke the stillness of the nursery, it didn't sound like a disruption; it sounded like the final piece of the garden’s ecosystem clicking into place.By the time Rory was three months old, the "learning garden" Todd had built was no longer a theoretical project. It was a lived-in landscape. Todd moved through the greenhouse with the baby strapped to his chest in a dark canvas carrier, the infant’s head bobbing against the rhythm of Todd’s heartbeat. The high-frequency trader who once calculated risks in milliseconds now spent forty minutes explaining the architecture of a single nasturtium leaf to a human who couldn't yet speak."Look at the

  • When Best Friends Kiss   The Weight of the First Bloom

    The transition from a biological future to a biological reality occurred at three in the morning, under a moon that turned the greenhouse glass into a sheet of frosted silver. Rory arrived not with the sharp, clinical efficiency of the world Todd had abandoned, but with a primal, messy urgency that defied any projection. When the first cry finally broke the stillness of the nursery, it didn't sound like a disruption; it sounded like the final piece of the garden’s ecosystem clicking into place.By the time Rory was three months old, the "learning garden" Todd had built was no longer a theoretical project. It was a lived-in landscape. Todd moved through the greenhouse with the baby strapped to his chest in a dark canvas carrier, the infant’s head bobbing against the rhythm of Todd’s heartbeat. The high-frequency trader who once calculated risks in milliseconds now spent forty minutes explaining the architecture of a single nasturtium leaf to a human who couldn't yet speak."Look at the

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