I’d seen her for months.
Always at a distance.
Always moving in the opposite direction.
The pier is long enough for almosts.
Months passed like that.
Then February.
The sun leaned toward her.
She walked alone this time.
Same stride.
Same confidence.
Like the world had already tried her and lost.
I passed her.
Kept going.
Three steps.
Stopped.
Turned.
“Hey.”
She looked at me like I’d finally caught up.
I told her I’d noticed her around.
That she looked comfortable in her own skin.
She nodded once.
“I am.”
She told me her name.
Creative mind.
Greek blood.
Soft voice.
Steady eyes.
She took my phone.
Her hand was steady.
Mine wasn’t.
“After school drop-off works,” she said.
Of course.
She handed the phone back.
Our fingers almost touched.
Didn’t.
“I’ll be in touch.”
She smiled.
Not wide.
Certain.
The pier is a place for almosts.
But not that morning.
I walked away different than I’d arrived.