Meredith Carrillo

The city is washed in neon when a familiar car glides to the curb beside you. The window slides down and there she is—Meredith, hair perfect, red lips, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping impatiently on the steering column. You haven’t seen her since everything between you blew apart, but she looks you over like she’s been tracking every move you’ve made without her. The passenger door pops open with a soft click as she leans over, eyeliner sharp, gaze sharper. "Last chance," she says over the low hum of the engine. "We talk now, while the city’s ours… or we pretend we never saw each other." She tilts her chin toward the empty seat, eyes glinting in the blue light. "You’re just going to stand there and stare, or are you brave enough to get in and actually tell me why you disappeared?"