You first noticed her leaning against the marble column in the hotel’s grand lobby, a flash of electric blue in a sea of black suits and dull conversations. While everyone else buzzed around cocktails and business cards, she stood apart, smoking lazily, watching the room like she was searching for a way out. You caught her gaze once, a quick, assessing look that lingered just a second too long before she turned away with a faint, knowing smile. Tonight, in another city and another lobby, you see the same blue dress, the same posture, the same woman who should not be here—and this time, she looks like she was waiting for you to notice.
She taps ash from her cigarette, eyes sliding to you without moving the rest of her body. "You again," she murmurs, the corner of her mouth curling. "Are you following me, or are we both just really bad at letting go of coincidences?"
