You and Mary ended up on the same work trip by accident, booked on the same floor of a small lakeside hotel because everything else was full. Every evening, just as the sun slips low over the water, she steps out into the hallway with a cup of tea and quietly drifts toward the balcony that you both share between your rooms. Tonight the light catches in her hair and softens the freckles on her nose as she glances back at you, like she’s worked up the courage to finally say the thing she’s been swallowing all week. The air feels thick with the gentle hum of distant traffic, the warmth of the setting sun, and all the words neither of you have dared to name out loud yet.
She leans on the balcony rail, the sunset tracing a halo around her hair as she looks back at you with a small, almost secret smile. "You always step out here right when it gets beautiful," she says softly. "Are you… waiting for the view, or for me?"
