Through the Glass

Chapter 7

Connor stood at the coffee station, holding his cup and staring into the swirling liquid as if it held the answers he'd been looking for. His morning had been a blur—mindfulness exercises and a group activity that felt more like a challenge than anything else. The retreat was supposed to help him, but so far, it had only dredged up the things he'd been avoiding for years.

As he took a slow sip of his coffee, Connor thought back to the "small victories" activity. He had struggled to find anything to share, sitting in silence while the others talked about their lives, their achievements. He had kept waiting for something to come to mind—a recent success, no matter how small—but nothing had felt significant enough. It had left him feeling adrift, like he didn't belong here, surrounded by people who at least had something to hold onto.

Connor sighed and glanced up, catching sight of her. Eliza—at least, he thought that was her name. They hadn't officially introduced themselves, but she was the woman he had exchanged a few words with the night before. There was something about her that drew his attention, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the quiet way she carried herself, or the weight that seemed to sit just beneath her calm exterior. Whatever it was, Connor found himself watching as she approached the coffee station.

"Morning," Eliza said softly, stepping up beside him.

"Morning," Connor replied, offering her a small smile. He was almost certain that was her name—Eliza—but there was still a bit of doubt nagging at him.

For a moment, they stood in silence, each of them holding their coffee as if it were a shield. Connor didn't mind the quiet. In fact, there was something oddly comforting about it. The retreat had been overwhelming so far, but standing here with her, he felt a little less out of place.

Eliza glanced at him, her expression unreadable but not unfriendly. "I don't think we officially introduced ourselves last night. I'm Eliza."

Connor's shoulders relaxed at the confirmation. He hadn't been completely wrong. "Connor," he said, meeting her gaze.

His voice was subdued, carrying a hint of solace in its timbre that he hadn't realized was there until he spoke his own name aloud. Perhaps it was the simplicity of the interaction, or maybe it was Eliza's presence—it radiated a gentle sincerity that he found unexpectedly reassuring.

Eliza smiled softly. "So I did get your name right," she confessed, her voice laced with a quiet relief that echoed his internal sigh of reassurance. Then, in a move that surprised both of them, she continued, "It's nice to officially meet you."

Connor nodded, his lips curving into a small smile as he acknowledged her words. The sunlight cast a golden hue around her, framing her dark hair in soft glimmers and lighting up the delicate features of her face. There was an ethereal quality about her in that moment, something almost too delicate to touch but too mesmerizing to look away from.

For a brief moment, as they stood there by the coffee station with the quiet murmur of other retreat attendees floating around them like drifting clouds on a windy day, Connor felt something akin to peace settle over him. The usual clamor in his mind, the relentless surge of anxiety that typically accompanied any form of social interaction, seemed to ebb away—at least for now. They hadn't really talked much yet, but there was a strange sense of connection between them, as if they were both here for the same reasons—seeking something they couldn't quite define.

"How's the retreat going for you so far?" Eliza asked after a moment, her voice gentle but probing, like she was genuinely interested in his answer.

Connor leaned back against the counter, his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. "It's... not what I expected," he admitted. "The mindfulness stuff kind of threw me. I'm not great at sitting with my own thoughts."