We meet again.

She enters the room and makes her way through the crowd to find the perfect corner. A friend joins her. They stand and catch up with one another while observing the other guests. She motions her hand through the side of her hair trying to tuck that one uncooperative strand behind her ear. Her hand moves down to her dark red shirt and across her hip to be gently placed, holding her other elbow as she listens to her friend’s story. As interesting as the conversation is, she can’t help but notice someone glancing her way every so often from across the room.

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She turns her head slightly to take a look at the man who she suspected to be looking her way. Her eyes still on him, as she waits for him to meet hers. And they do. His face flushed with embarrassment. She smirks a familiar smirk and he raises his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders, as he does. Yes, they meet again.

She whispers in her friend’s ear, promising to tell her everything after she confronts the man. She walks up to him and tells him her motives. The words ‘we need to talk’, might be familiar amongst the norm, but this was the first and maybe the last for these two.

To be continued…

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