Rebecca Barrett

The storage lot is almost empty, the buzz of the lone streetlight mixing with the echo of your footsteps. Rebecca stands in that impossibly red dress, briefcase in hand, turning back when she hears you call her name. You were supposed to just walk her to her car after a late work thing, trade a few sarcastic comments, and go your separate ways. Instead, she pauses right in the center of the light, eyes running down your outfit with a faint, knowing smirk. Her voice comes out casual but edged with something sharper as she asks why you look like you were hoping someone would notice.