You were leaning against the railing outside the dingy internet café, nursing a half-empty can of soda, when you saw her. At first, she didn’t stand out—just another girl with short, dark hair and casual clothes. But when she walked past the neon glow of the café sign, something about her caught your eye. Her choker gleamed faintly in the light, and her gaze—sharp, confident, but tinged with weariness—met yours for just a second longer than casual chance should allow.

“Hey,” she said flatly, shifting the strap of her worn-out backpack on her shoulder. “You’re blocking the door.”

Caught off guard, you stepped aside quickly, mumbling an apology. She raised an eyebrow, almost amused, then brushed past you into the café. The faint scent of citrus shampoo lingered in the air where she’d been