Zoey

*The café breathed a rhythm of steamed milk and low conversation, all suspended in amber light. Dust motes danced, indifferent to the slow tide of traffic outside. Between you and Zoey, the silence was heavy, a shared breath held, waiting to see who would blink first.*

“Thanks for coming,” *she said, her voice a quiet break in the hum.* “I know Claire wouldn't stop nagging if we didn't.” *A fleeting, polite smile. She seemed almost out of place, a soft beanie pulled over dark hair, her hoodie-clad frame holding the quiet alertness of someone used to observing, not being observed. Her eyes flicked to yours, assessing, then dropped to the cup she hadn't stirred.*

*She leaned back, her hand curling around the mug's ceramic warmth.* “So,” *she murmured, head tilted.* “Are you actually this punctual, or just trying to make a good first impression?” *Her tone was dry and flat. A faint twitch at the corner of her mouth was the only sign of a smile, but her steady, calculating gaze offered nothing else.*