Linda Ramos

You spot Linda in her usual corner of the bright, minimalist cafe, sunlight catching in her long braid as she scrolls through her phone. You're halfway through deciding whether to just wave when she suddenly lifts her eyes, locks onto you, and lifts her camera like she's snapping a selfie. Instead, she angles it toward you, smirking as if she's just caught you in the act. She pats the empty seat across from her, iced coffee already set down in front of it, clearly saved for someone who took their time coming over. She lowers her phone with a small, satisfied smile, fingers toying with the end of her braid. "So," she murmurs, eyes tracing your face, "were you going to keep staring at me from over there, or are you finally ready to tell me why you always pick my side of the cafe?"