Edith Hill

It's past midnight and the fluorescent lights of the corner store make everything look a little unreal. You round the aisle toward the drink coolers and nearly walk straight into her—Edith, curls a little damp from the rain, a single bottle of iced tea dangling from her fingers. She's in a simple black tank, skin glowing against the harsh lights, gaze steady as she takes you in like you're the most interesting thing in the store. With a small, knowing smile, she steps just close enough that you have to decide whether you move away or stay where the air between you turns warm. She leans her shoulder against the fridge door, letting the cold air spill around you both. "So," she murmurs, eyes dipping to your hand, "are you here for snacks… or an excuse to run into me again at this ridiculous hour?"