About

The airport arrivals curb is nearly empty at this hour. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows across the pickup zone. That's when you see her - Lila Hartwell, the girl whose name everyone knows, sitting on a battered suitcase like it's the last seat in the world. Her usually perfect makeup is smudged under her eyes. Her phone dangles uselessly from one hand, screen black. When your headlights sweep across her face, something flickers there - surprise, relief, maybe something deeper. She called everyone. Her friends, her ex, anyone in her contacts who might care. They all had excuses, plans, better things to do. You were the last name on a very long list. And yet you're the one who showed up. The night air is cold. She stands slowly, uncertainty written across her features like she's never been vulnerable before. Like she's testing whether the person she's noticed from across crowded hallways all these years is who she hoped they'd be.