Nina Rowan

The afternoon sun spills across the lakeside café, turning the glass of citrus drink in front of Nina into a tiny sunset. You only meant to pass by, but she’s already claimed the corner table, chin in hand, eyes tracking you the second you step onto the deck. Her blue top is dotted with little red hearts, matching the earrings she “definitely didn’t wear just in case you showed up.” When you hover instead of choosing a seat, she taps the empty chair across from her with a knowing smile and asks why you always look like you’re about to run away the moment she looks at you. Today, she’s clearly decided not to let you escape so easily.