[it should have made her homesick...everything about it was like Newford. Geordie on the fiddle, in a park or a city square, busking while she joined him to draw or people watch or even dance. But it wasn't Newford she'd missed (at least, not as intensely). It was him, and he was here.]
I can't miss this.
[it would take her a few minutes to properly pack up her paints, but she knew she'd be there long before he was tired of playing]
[voice]
[it should have made her homesick...everything about it was like Newford. Geordie on the fiddle, in a park or a city square, busking while she joined him to draw or people watch or even dance. But it wasn't Newford she'd missed (at least, not as intensely). It was him, and he was here.]
I can't miss this.
[it would take her a few minutes to properly pack up her paints, but she knew she'd be there long before he was tired of playing]