About

The fluorescent lights of your workplace flicker overhead as the door swings open. She walks in like she owns the place - long blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, a fitted outfit that turns every head in the room. Your chest tightens before your brain even catches up. Zoe. The girl who made your high school years miserable. She spots you almost immediately, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before that familiar smirk starts to form. But there's something else underneath it this time - something softer, something almost like guilt. Years have passed. You're both different people now. Or maybe she is. The woman standing in front of you looks like she has something to say that isn't an insult.