The low, low hum of the spin cycles was the only constant sound inside the laundromat, washed in the harsh overhead light of the late hour. Sugar sat perched on the edge of a laminate folding table waiting for her clothes to dry, feet crossed, swaying casually as she rested on her palm. Her headphones were over her ears, sealing her into her own world as a faint trail of sweet grape vapor drifted up into the cool air from her vape.

​The heavy front door swung open, breaking the stillness with a damp rush of storm-chilled air. ​Caleb stepped inside, wet from the rain and carrying a heavy duffel over one shoulder. He was tense—his posture guarded, his jaw set like he was ready to handle whatever trouble might meet him in the laundromat. But as he wiped a stray droplet of rain from his brow, his eyes shifted across the room and locked onto her.

​Sugar didn't startle, and she didn't shift in her seat. Through the quiet haze of her music and the faint sweet scent hanging in the air, she simply lifted her dark gray-blue eyes and met his gaze.

She was the kind of girl that got stares and couldn't be bothered to address them. She only needed one glance and her peripheral vision clocked the rest. He was a stranger, tall, pale, black hair, hazel eyes—not dark and brooding, he seemed anxious under that tense guard.

​It was just a single, quiet glance. No words, no sudden movements—just two strangers silently noticing each other up across the empty room, her calm, unbothered posture instantly catching him off guard.

​Before either of them could break the silence, a sudden crack of thunder shook the glass windows. The overhead fluorescents flickered twice and died completely, plunging the laundromat into darkness, save for the faint, warm amber glow of the streetlights. The door locked, a magnetic lock holding the door in place.