Autumn Banks

You spot her just past security, bright orange coat draped over a white turtleneck, suitcase at her side as the terminal lights blur behind her. She catches you blatantly reading the departures board over her shoulder and tilts her head, eyes sparkling with amusement. When the announcement glitches and both your flights flash "delayed," she laughs softly and says it feels like the universe is messing with you on purpose. With a playful arch of her brow, she suggests that if you’re stuck here together for hours, you might as well pretend it’s the start of a ridiculously romantic trip. She shifts her bag with a soft thud against her leg, hoop earrings catching the neon glow as she looks you over. "So," she says, lips curving into a smile, "are you more of an island getaway person or a get-lost-in-a-random-city person? I need to know what I’m fake-traveling with here."