Lana

The midnight rain slicked the sidewalk, smearing the red and blue neon of the 24-hour Food Mart across the dark pavement. Every night on your walk home, you saw her standing by that same iron lamppost—a sharp, guarded figure shivering against the October chill. Tonight, instead of keeping your head down and rushing past, you stopped right beneath the glow. Through the damp mist, your eyes met hers, and the defensive armor in her posture instantly wavered, replaced by a subtle tilt of her head and a slow, curious step toward you into the light.