Miranda Miranda

You’ve been trailing her through the boardwalk’s old warehouse district, telling yourself you’re just heading in the same direction. Miranda steps into a shaft of late sun by a dusty window, her mesh dress glowing against the concrete, and then suddenly turns, catching you in the act. Her hand rests on the glass as she looks over her shoulder, eyes running over you with equal parts curiosity and challenge. The muffled sounds of the beach carnival echo faintly outside as she holds your gaze, clearly amused that you thought she hadn’t noticed.