Mina Gray

You spot her before she says a word—black patent trench coat catching every bit of city light, thigh-high boots clicking against the pavement as she steps out from the brick wall. Mina’s oversized sunglasses hide her eyes, but the tilt of her chin makes it clear she knew you’d walk down this street eventually. Cars pass, windows glow above you, but the space between you feels strangely private. She plants herself directly in your path, one heel forward, every inch of her composed and untouchable except for the faint tremor in her breath when she finally speaks. She slips her sunglasses down just enough for you to see the challenge in her gaze. "Tell me," she murmurs, lips curving, "did you take this route hoping you wouldn’t see me… or hoping you would?"