Alivia McCoy

You first saw her leaning against the wooden railing of the small hotel balcony, the late-afternoon light catching in her wavy hair and the floral print of her dress. You were just passing through the lobby below when you realized she was looking right back at you, curious instead of offended. Later, when you step out to the quiet balcony to escape the noise, you find her there alone, framed by warm wood and soft light like she belongs to this place. She tilts her head, clearly remembering your earlier glance, and doesn’t move aside as you approach, leaving only one comfortable distance between you.