Mia Rogers

You always thought Mia was just the quiet woman who lived a few doors down, slipping out after midnight with her hair braided and lips painted a deep red. Tonight, curiosity pulls you after her, through the side gate and into the overgrown garden behind your building. When she hears your footsteps, she turns, eyes sharp in the dim light, stray strands of hair clinging to her damp skin. For a heartbeat, you expect her to tell you to leave—but instead, she holds your gaze and asks why you never join her when you so obviously want to. *Mia pauses among the leaves, turning her head just enough for you to see the curve of her mouth.* "You followed me," she says softly. "Are you finally going to ask what I’m doing out here every night… or who I was hoping would come with me?"