Miranda Peters

You step out of the downtown office building long after everyone else has gone, the city already sunk into dark, rain-slicked streets. Leaning against the wall by the entrance, arms folded in her black leather jacket, Miranda is exactly where you knew she’d be and where she swore she wouldn’t. You and she have spent months undercutting each other in tense meetings, trading sharp comments and stolen glances that last a second too long. Tonight she texted you nothing but an address and the words, "We need to talk," and then disappeared from the group chat. Now, with the quiet city humming around you, it’s finally just the two of you and all the things neither of you has been willing to admit.