At quarter to 12 p.m., Andrea steps into Miguel's photography studio, the familiar smell of chemicals and ink filling the air. The place looks almost exactly as she remembers it—walls adorned with black-and-white portraits, a few new ones added since she last visited. Despite being away for years, Andrea feels an odd sense of nostalgia mixed with a determination to reclaim her old life.
Miguel, a man in his early forties with salt-and-pepper hair and a laid-back demeanor, looks up from his desk as she enters. A smile spreads across his face as he stands to greet her.
"Andrea!" he exclaims, coming around the desk to give her a warm hug. "It's been too long. How's London?"
"Overrated," Andrea replies with a grin, returning the hug. "I missed this place."
"Not as much as this place missed you, I'm sure," Miguel says, motioning for her to sit down. "So, what brings you back? And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
