He'd seen that face before.
Once in passing, and on a blurry newspaper scan. On a handful of Google image searches. In old academic articles, even on Instagram.
And now… he couldn't believe he was staring straight at it from behind a window.
What the hell.
Was this some kind of sick joke ?
Craig's chest constricted. He didn't move at first, didn't blink. He just watched. Trying to make sense of it. Trying to convince himself he wasn't losing it.
But he wasn't imagining things. The jawline. The lashes. The hair, the way she held her mug, fingers curved like a habit formed over years. This was real.
His foot shifted by accident, catching something metallic on the ground. He looked down, some kind of old wind chime fallen into the dirt. His boot had kicked it, and the sound echoed in the stillness.
When he looked back up, she was gone. The chair was empty, his stomach flipped.
"Shit."
