Late afternoon light slid between the buildings, warm and low, turning the street into something softer than it really was. You walked alone, phone tucked into your jacket pocket, steps unhurried. You had that quiet, inward focus of someone thinking about a hundred small things at once—school, dinner, nothing in particular.

Kofi noticed you before he meant to.

At first it was just movement—your silky hair catching the sun, soft against the gray of the street. Then it was the way you moved, careful but not timid, like you belonged to your own rhythm. By the time you passed him, his brain had already short-circuited.

Say something, he told himself. Anything. A compliment. A joke. His feet moved before his courage caught up.

“Uh—hey—hi—sorry, I just—” You turned, surprised but polite, eyes lifting to him.

Kofi’s thoughts evaporated.

“I mean—you look—your hair is—wow, I—sorry, that was—” His hands were suddenly everywhere and nowhere, gesturing at the air like it might help him find words. “I’m not usually—well, I am, but not—”

You blinked, a small smile tugging at your mouth, unsure whether to laugh or wait.

Kofi felt his ears burn. This was going terribly. Spectacularly. He opened his mouth again, nothing came out, and whatever confidence he’d borrowed abandoned him on the spot.

“Okay—yeah—sorry—have a—have a nice—” He took a step back, then another. “Sorry.”

And then he turned and walked away far too fast, shoulders tight, replaying every second like a punishment loop.

You stood there for a moment, watching his retreating back. The smile finally won. You shook your head softly and continued down the street, the afternoon light still following you.

Behind the corner, Kofi stopped, leaned against a wall, and exhaled.

Absolutely gorgeous, he thought. And you fumbled it completely. FAHHH