Chapter 3
M orning spilled over the Portland skyline in soft hues of peach and gold, casting a gentle glow over the bustling city and its sleepier edges. Streetcars hummed in the distance, early risers padded along sidewalks with steaming cups in hand, and the city slowly rubbed the sleep from its eyes.
Somewhere high above it all, in a sleek apartment building with more glass than privacy, Will startled awake with a sharp inhale.
His dog, Fetch, sat perched beside the bed like a furry alarm clock, leash dangling from his mouth with the kind of silent insistence only a well-trained dog—and possibly a toddler—could pull off.
Will groaned, rubbing a hand down his face before glancing at the glowing red digits on his bedside clock.
One look and he cringed. “Why do I even have an alarm clock when I have you?” he muttered, reaching over to tousle Fetch’s head.
“You win. I’m up.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and exhaled, already mentally bracing himself for the chaos of the day ahead.
While Will began his morning routine several floors above city traffic, across town, things were moving at a much gentler pace.
Nestled in the cozy edge of Portland where craftsman homes lined streets like something out of a lifestyle magazine and the lingering fog seemed curated for ambiance, Alex blinked her eyes open to the soft hush of morning.
Lady—her trusty golden fluffball and emotional support queen—let out a dramatic sigh from the other side of the bed, as if waking up were a burden best shared.
“Morning, sweet girl,” Alex murmured, reaching over to scratch behind Lady’s ears. Lady responded like royalty summoned for affection, promptly rolling onto her back to demand a belly rub.
The two stretched in lazy unison before sliding out of bed, the unspoken agreement clear: whatever the day had in store, they were ready for it—with style, of course.
On one side of the city, Will stood in front of his closet, his golden retriever, Fetch, now waiting proudly outside the space with his leash still in his mouth like it was a trophy.
On the other side, Alex studied herself in the mirror, holding up two tops with a look that screamed fashion fatigue.
Lady sat loyally nearby, pink squeaky ball between her paws, like she was waiting for the few magic words that meant she was going to put that ball to work.
They brushed their teeth. Tamed their hair. Pulled on shoes at the edge of their beds while their dogs watched like pint-sized life coaches.
Will clipped Fetch’s leash just as the elevator dinged. He stepped inside, rubbing sleep from his eyes, while Fetch sat obediently, the very picture of leash etiquette.
Meanwhile, in Georgie’s kitchen, the scent of pancakes made its way up the stairs just in time for Alex to follow it.
She jogged down with Lady on her heels, dodged a rogue Lego on the landing, and swept through the kitchen with practiced chaos.
She snagged a piece of pancake off one of Georgie’s kids' plates like a breakfast ninja, grinned at their protests, and grabbed Lady’s leash from the hook by the door.
Back in the elevator, Will shifted to the side as a few other residents joined him. Fetch gave a polite tail wag to each of them, because he was raised right.
The scene was as orderly as a morning could be—Will standing tall, buttoned-up –even if slightly wrinkled– with Fetch seated like a golden statue of obedience. It was efficient. Predictable. And just the way Will liked it.
Meanwhile, across town in a setting far less curated and far more chaotic-chic, Alex’s morning was rolling out with the exact kind of barely contained whimsy that made sense for her.
While Will was navigating a silent elevator full of stiff small talk and subtle nods, Alex was navigating syrup logistics, negotiating with her niece and nephew, and managing dog excitement in a house that pulsed with cozy noise and familiar clutter.
Luke filled coffee tumblers while Georgie wrangled syrup distribution. As Alex reached for the doorknob, Georgie intercepted her like a caffeine fairy godmother, offering her one of the tumblers with a smirk.
“You’ll need it,” she said, already shooing her out the door.
Outside, Will and Fetch exited the building and hit the sidewalk. Fetch trotted along with purpose. Will? Less so. He still looked like a man emotionally negotiating with morning.
Alex paused at the edge of the walk, coffee in hand, Lady by her side. A breeze picked up, sending the scent of fresh pastries wafting from somewhere down the street.
Will stood in line at his favorite walk-up coffee spot, Fetch sitting patiently at his feet. As he neared the counter, Alex strolled right past behind him, blissfully unaware of the almost-meet-cute that was now at least the third almost-moment fate had served up.
Their routines, though entirely different in style and rhythm, moved forward in perfect synch. Will with his precision—Alex with her improv. Like two ships passing in the night, these two did it with their blinders on.
Like two puzzle pieces being shaped by entirely different tools—but still destined to fit. Neither of them noticed. But the universe? The universe was taking notes.