•4 days ago•
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The woman at the café table kept touching her collarbone—fingers finding the hollow, lingering there, as though checking for something that had gone missing.
Marco noticed because he'd been watching her for twenty minutes, waiting for his date who wasn't coming. The woman sat alone too, coffee long cold, a paperback open but unread. Every few minutes: hand to throat, that absent searching gesture.
When she stood to leave, something silver caught the light. A necklace, tucked beneath her collar. She paused, looking at his table, and for a suspended moment Marco thought she might speak.