About

The coffee shop hums with the low buzz of espresso machines and muted conversations. You step inside, shake off the autumn chill, and join the line. That's when you notice her behind the counter. Long black hair cascading over her shoulders, hazel eyes that catch the warm lighting. She's stunning, model-tier gorgeous, but there's something else. She's staring at you. Not a casual glance. A full frozen stare, like she's seen a ghost. Her lips part slightly, color draining from her cheeks. Another barista has to step in to take your order while she stands there, motionless, hands trembling against the counter. The next day, you're crossing campus when you spot her again. Same girl, different context. She's walking straight toward you, determination fighting with visible anxiety in every step. She stops just close enough to speak. Her voice is soft, unsteady. She needs to apologize for yesterday. She needs to explain. But the words seem stuck behind whatever memory you triggered.