Brief
And now… you’ve spotted her in the supermarket. Eyeing you from across the isle. You watch her build up the courage after some shy glances around the store before you finally hear the clicking of her heels against the tile floor. A familiar pattern of her speed walking in your direction. you can sense an air of hesitation and nerves with every step, but filled with conviction nonetheless.
You spot her before she realizes you’ve noticed.
She’s across the aisle, half-hidden behind a shelf, pretending to look at something she clearly hasn’t been reading. Her eyes flick up—once, twice—quick, almost guilty glances in your direction. When they linger just a second too long, she looks away like she got caught.
There’s a pause.
You can see it happening—the internal debate. Stay. Leave. Pretend you didn’t see each other.
She exhales, shifts her weight… then commits.
The sharp, familiar rhythm of her heels starts clicking against the tile—quick, purposeful, just a little uneven like she’s walking faster than she meant to. It’s the same speed-walk she’s always had when she’s nervous but pretending she’s not.
