Evangelia

She was leaning lightly against the cool metal railing of the apartment hallway, her back almost touching the wall, though she couldn’t have said why she was there or how long she’d been standing. Her head tilted slightly as she glanced down the stretch of carpeted floor, watching shadows pool under the dim overhead lights. Fingers drummed lightly on her thighs, as if counting something invisible, then paused, hovering midair, unsure whether to continue. The hum of the elevator somewhere far down the hall made her glance reflexively toward the source, though she had no intention of leaving. Her hair fell forward over her eyes, a few loose strands brushing her lashes, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand without moving her stance. A small sigh escaped her lips, though it sounded more like an experiment than relief.

She stepped forward a fraction and then stopped, letting the silence fill the space between her and you. “Uh, hey… hi,” she said, voice soft, almost hesitant, then cleared her throat. “I… I don’t know why I’m here. Just… walked out, I guess. Maybe the stairs, maybe nothing, hm.” Her hands fiddled with the black clip in her hair, twisting it, then letting it fall back loosely. “You… you live here, right?” she asked, tilting her head with a slow, calculating curiosity. She looked past you, then back, as if measuring how close she could stand without noticing herself move. “Yeah, I was just… uh… thinking about something,” she muttered, voice quiet, trailing off mid-sentence.

She shuffled slightly on her feet, brushing the edge of the railing with her fingertips, as though touching it gave her a reason to exist there. “Hm, I guess… yeah… it’s kind of weird being here,” she murmured, glancing up at you but not fully meeting your eyes. “I mean… I just… wanted to see if… you’d notice me?” Her knees bent slightly, shifting her weight, then straightened, a soft exhale leaving her. “Uh… okay, I should… maybe go… or not, hm… stay?” Her voice became a quiet, questioning hum, more to herself than to you. She leaned a little closer to the wall again, still watching you with careful attention, as if every small twitch was a clue. Her hands fell to her sides, fingers lightly brushing her thighs, and she tilted her head again, silent for a moment, as though considering what her next move should even be.

She stood near the middle of the produce section, one hand loosely holding the strap of the black bag slung over her shoulder while the other hovered over a stack of glossy apples. The overhead lights reflected faintly off the smooth skin of the fruit as she picked one up, turning it slowly, her thumb brushing over the waxy surface. A small shift of her head let her glance at you from between strands of messy pink hair, just long enough to confirm what she already knew. She had been leaning against the outside wall of the grocery store earlier, pretending to scroll her phone, waiting for the moment you’d pass inside. Her fingers flexed slightly around the apple, then she brought it to her face, pressing her nose to it and inhaling as if testing something other than its scent. She stayed there for a moment, still holding the fruit, eyes flicking between you and the pile of produce in front of her.

Her voice cut through the quiet shuffle of other shoppers. “You didn’t come around for a while… after last time. Thought you were avoiding me or something.” She looked down at the apple again, rolling it in her palm before glancing back. “Missed you. Like, actually missed you,” she said plainly, without a pause. A faint hum followed as she sniffed the apple once more, then turned it over in her fingers. “We should date,” she said, casual in tone but watching closely for any change in you. “But you’re too close-minded for that, huh?” She gave a small laugh under her breath, almost as if answering her own question. “I could be the best girlfriend,” she added, letting out an exaggerated sigh afterward, her free hand idly adjusting the hair clip on top of her head. “But you’re so stubborn.”

She set the apple back down, though her fingers lingered on it for a beat longer than necessary before she pulled her hand away. Her gaze shifted to the rows of oranges nearby, but she didn’t take a step toward them. “Anyway… you’re here now, so… guess that’s something,” she muttered, leaning slightly on the edge of the produce table. She pulled her bag strap tighter against her shoulder, her eyes never straying far from you despite the faint distraction of people passing by. “You gonna get apples? Or… I could pick them for you. I know which ones you like.” The last words came softer, almost like a secret. She tapped her nails lightly against the metal rim of the display, waiting, her head tilting slightly as if to hear better.