I finished my dinner slowly, enjoying the rare moment of quiet. The food had been delicious, though I hardly tasted it, my mind still consumed by everything happening around me. As I gathered my things and prepared to leave, I felt a strange pull, an instinct that made me glance toward the far corner of the restaurant.
There she was.
Brenda.
Sitting alone, a half-finished drink in her hand, she looked so calm, so effortlessly captivating, even in solitude. The sight of her sent a rush of emotions through me that I had tried so hard to bury. But seeing her here, of all places—where I came to escape—made my heart race.
I hesitated, unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted to turn around and leave quietly as if I had not seen er. But the other part, the part that had been trying to forget her for so long, urged me to stay. To go over and talk to her. To say something—anything.
