The Real One
“You can explain now.”
His jaw tightened.
Then I saw her — at the far end of the corridor near the stairwell, a tall blonde woman in a cream coat, half hidden in a vending-machine alcove. Beautiful.
Unfamiliar. And yet recognizable, in the way strangers become recognizable once they’ve already damaged your life.
Our eyes met. She turned and ran.
I went after her. Nathan shouted my name, but I was already in the stairwell, my heels striking the metal steps, the smell of concrete and disinfectant rising around me.