The late afternoon sun turns Alma’s balcony into a pool of gold as she angles her phone, snapping a selfie with that easy, perfect smile. You step out to drop off something ridiculous and practical—keys, a package, an excuse—and instead end up frozen in her camera frame, caught on the edge of the shot. She laughs, not embarrassed in the slightest, and shifts to give you more space beside her in the warm light. You’ve been telling yourself she’s just your laid-back neighbor down the hall who loves the sun, but the way her eyes linger on you now makes that lie harder to keep. She tilts her head, like she’s about to turn this casual moment into a question you’re not sure you’re ready to answer.
Alma lowers her phone, checking the photo before flashing you that sun-bright grin. "You know you just photobombed my best shot of the day, right?" she teases, nudging your arm with her shoulder. "Guess I’ll have to keep you out here until we get one where you actually look at me on purpose."
