too familiar for strangers ¤ w/ @besiwoo
she shouldn’t even be out today. it was supposed to be a stay-home, clean-up-the-chaos kind of day. but somewhere between unpacking the last box labeled “things that don’t have a place anymore” and finding a hoodie she swore she’d already returned—one she hadn’t even realized she kept—she just… needed air.
the convenience store felt safe. impersonal. quiet. a space where the only decisions she’d have to make were between banana milk or coffee, sweet or salty.
and then the door chimed, and that safety shattered.
she heard him before she turned. that familiar cadence, low and easy, as he mumbled something polite to the cashier. and suddenly, she was right back there—standing in a shadow she’d spent months trying to walk out of.
she should leave. she should pretend she didn’t see him.
but her feet don’t move. and when he turns, eyes meeting hers across aisles stacked with instant noodles and cheap energy drinks, it’s too late to pretend they’re strangers.
the words tumble out before she can stop them, soft and painfully casual. “…you’re still drinking that awful soda, huh?”
like no time’s passed. like she didn’t spend nights wondering if she was the one who wasn’t enough.
