Miles and Georgi set off on their long-awaited road trip to the Redwoods, but only Miles knew the destination and the events planned. The trip was a complete surprise to Georgi. They packed all the essentials: snacks, a camera, and, of course, a guidebook on cloud formations. Miles insisted on bringing it, saying, “You never know when it might come in handy.” Georgi laughed, thinking it was another of Miles' brief obsessions. Little did they both know that book would save the entire trip later on.

As they crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, Miles pointed up at the towering cables. “You know,” he began, “this bridge is painted ‘International Orange.’ It’s specifically designed to stand out in the fog, which was a huge issue during construction.” Georgi nodded, only half-listening. Miles added, “You’ll see why this matters later when we get there, as this actually isn’t the only fascinating structure painted in this color. There’s another one that’s less iconic but culturally more significant to northern California where we’re headed.”

Georgi glanced at him but said nothing, assuming he was just rambling as usual.

A couple of hours down the road, they pulled into a small, forgotten town, home to an equally forgotten diner. Inside, an older waitress with a name tag reading “Poppi” greeted them. Before they could even order, Poppi began explaining the secret to her world-famous coffee. “Nutmeg,” she said. “Just a dash, right on top of the foam. Changes everything.” Miles, suddenly very interested, nodded along, as he used to own an espresso machine. He leaned over to Georgi, “It’s funny because I also brought nutmeg on the trip for a different reason. You’ll see later.”

Georgi raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask any questions. This wasn’t the first time Miles brought a festive spice on a trip.

As they drove further into rural California, they ended up in another small town, the kind where time seemed to have stood still. At a gas station, they struck up a conversation with a man named Carl, who introduced them to his parrot, Hubard. Carl insisted that Hubard was telepathic. “He can’t talk, but he and I communicate... up here,” Carl said, tapping his head. Before Georgi could respond, Miles whispered, “I have a cockapoo named Hubble!” as the whole telepathic parrot thing just went right over his head. Georgi sat and listened to the two discuss the names, realizing that Miles going off on pointless tangents would be a theme for this trip.

They continued through the winding roads, with Miles periodically pointing at clouds and confidently speculating about their formation, despite being underneath the dense canopy of trees and fog.

Later that afternoon, they took an unexpected detour and found themselves at a small lighthouse—one that only displayed spoons. Carl had told them about it, insisting they stop by. As they wandered through the bizarre collection, Carl did not mention the spoons, which seemed a bit odd. Miles studied one particularly ornate spoon. “This,” he said thoughtfully, “the symbol just so happens to matter for our plans for tomorrow.”

Georgi left the spoon museum more confused than enlightened, but Miles was pleasantly surprised that the museum had added so much nuance to the trip.

As they drove deeper into the woods, dusk settled in, and they could finally sense that the Redwoods were close. Miles had just started sharing another fact—something about the migratory patterns of bats—when suddenly, their car hit a pothole, and Georgi lost grip of her phone, which flew out the window. “We’ll get it later,” Miles said, brushing it off. Georgi, surprised that Miles kept driving, thought it was a joke and waited for him to turn around. Instead he just offered to call it.

They eventually reached Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park, the trees towering above them, majestic and serene. They parked the car and walked into the heart of the forest, admiring the beauty all around them. But as the day faded into evening, Georgi couldn’t help but wonder when all those little moments were going to pay off. She glanced over at Miles, waiting for him to make sense of it all.

They stood in silence for a while, both gazing up at the massive trees.

And then, after a long pause, Georgi finally spoke. “So…?”

“So what? Oh, the spoon?” Miles asked, confused.

“The bridge, the nutmeg, the crows, Hubard the telepathic parrot, the spoon—what does it all mean?”

Miles looked at her, puzzled. “Oh, that? You don't get it?”

Georgi, puzzled, responded No Miles, I don't understand and I don't see why me wearing only Hawaiian shirts is important to this trip either. I thought we were going to Hawaii

Miles took a dramatic deep breath and said It will make sense later, will you marry me?

And with that, the Redwoods stretched above them, indifferent to everything they’d left unresolved. Their bond was stronger than ever, solidified in the mystery of the Redwood forest. Georgi realized that not all questions need answers—life with Miles has no answers,