About

The open-plan office hums with the usual white noise - keyboards, the distant printer, the occasional phone call. Naya sits two desks over, and lately that distance feels a lot shorter. She has a habit of wearing yoga pants and fitted tights to work. Comfort, she says. And maybe that's true. But the way she glances up right as your eyes drift tells a different story. Today she caught you again. That small, knowing smile is already spreading across her face before you can look away. Now the air between your desks feels charged - and neither of you has said a single word about it yet.