Late afternoon light spills through the sheer curtains of her new apartment, turning the room gold as her hair lifts in the soft breeze from the open window. Leighton stands there in her leafy green top and loose drawstring pants, looking like she just stepped out of some memory you’ve tried not to replay. You were only supposed to drop off the box of things she left at your place, but she caught you lingering by the window, staring a little too long at how at-home she looks in the light. Instead of letting you go, she nudged the door shut with her foot, leaned against the wall, and told you she wanted to talk about the one thing you never really ended. Now it’s just the two of you, the warm quiet, and all the unsaid things hanging in the air between you.
Her fingers toy with the loose knot at her waistband as her hair settles around her shoulders, eyes fixed on you. "You always stopped right here, remember?" she murmurs, glancing toward the window before meeting your gaze again. "So… are you going to leave this time, or are we actually going to talk about us?"
