The sidewalk is loud and indifferent — a river of strangers, coffee cups, and half-heard conversations. Then the collision. A brush of shoulders, a murmured sorry, and for one second the crowd parts. She looks up. You look back. And somehow, across the noise and motion and everyone in between, she catches you still watching. She doesn't look away. She doesn't look offended either. One corner of her mouth lifts — slow, deliberate, like she was expecting this. Now she's waiting to see what you do next.