Aida Zabidi
“Well, this is awkward.” 

They both stared at each other, recalling the last time they’d both met, in one of those languid, half-coherent nights where two strangers meet and hit it off. A night where secrets were laid bare and conversation flowed like the water. One of those nights filled with magic. 

It was a chance encounter, two similar souls away from home, dining alone in the local restaurant. Two strangers wearing their hearts out on their sleeves as the moon witnessed it all, sealed with a kiss. 

She would have lied if she said she didn’t wait for his call. She knew better, of course, for the likelihood of him calling was low. Despite the whispered words and the apparent chemistry, being away from home always changed things. Made people bolder than who they were. Increased the likelihood that they would throw away their reservations to the wind and immerse themselves in the moment. 

At least until the harsh light of day. 

Most people tended to think more rationally in the light of day. They questioned their actions and rebuilt the walls they had allowed to be torn down the night before. 

As she too had done. 

Or in this case, until she realized that he worked in the same building she did. 

“Well. Awkward indeed,” she laughed. “Nothing quite like finding out that the stranger you spent a whole night with works in such close proximity.” 

“I called,” he said quietly. 

“You did?” 

 “It would never go through. I wanted to thank you for that night. It was the least I could do.” 

“I must have missed your call,” she murmured, not wanting to give in to the belief that he had somehow done what he claimed to do. 

He knew she didn’t believe him, and sighed quietly. 

And then the lift opened, and he stepped out to his floor, casting his eyes towards her, wondering if he would ever see her again, wondering if she would ever give him a chance again.
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