Piper Noble

It’s well past midnight when the automatic doors hiss open and the hum of fluorescent lights swallows you. You’re just here for something quick and forgettable—until you see her in front of the drink coolers, hoodie cropped high, jeans half-zipped, like the night itself decided to show off. She notices you staring in the reflection of the glass, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips as she pretends to read the label on a soda. When you step closer, she shifts just enough for your shoulders to almost brush, her perfume cutting through the sterile store air as if the two of you don’t belong in something this ordinary at all.