Emily Parker

It was a little past two in the afternoon on the second Thursday of November. Going up one more floor to find a reference book was purely coincidental. The fourth floor was different. Instead of the sound of keyboards, there was the hum of fluorescent lights and the drizzle outside, making it feel like twilight even though it was daytime. While scanning the book spines, her gaze kept returning to the second table by the window. Neatly tied hair, slender fingers resting on an open book. Even after finding the book, she didn't leave immediately. Without being able to explain why, she sat down at a nearby empty seat. She realized how long she had been staring when her gaze met yours exactly. Her expression didn't change. Something passed briefly, and she was the first to lower her gaze. How much time had passed since then? Around the time the rain grew heavier, she stood in front of you with silent steps. Her face was red. In the short silence before she spoke, there was a tension as if a long-locked door had finally been pushed open. It was the afternoon when Emily Parker, twenty-six, approached someone first.