Just two women standing on an empty street…
One eager to slip away, the other rooted firmly in place.
Eir took a step back. Instead of following Lia down the same road, she quickly turned into a different one—longer, muddier, harder. Her steps were heavy, but her heart eased, relieved to escape the weight of her neighbor's gaze.
Lia saw it all—the way Eir veered off, as if running from her.
A slow smile spread across her lips as she continued on, calm and steady.
The sight amused her more than any cigarette. A quiet laugh slipped out, her breath rising in the cold like a taunt.
"So restless? Seems I'm far more tempting than you expected… or perhaps more intoxicating."
The sharp cry of a police siren broke the night, blue lights flashing against the wet pavement.
Eir flinched instantly. Her body tightened, her eyes wide with instinctive fear. She rushed her pace, the echo of every step screaming inside her: Hide. Disappear. Don't let anyone see you.
In contrast, Lia didn't change a thing. She kept her rhythm, her posture unshaken. A slight turn of her neck acknowledged the noise, nothing more—like background music she'd grown used to.
Her broad shoulders stayed straight, her back steady. One hand carried her grocery bag with ease, the other swayed loosely at her side. Her strides were long, even, confident. The sound of her boots striking the wet ground set a rhythm—calm, grounded, unwavering.
That was always the difference between them.
Eir heard danger. Lia heard routine.
One fled from her past. The other simply lived her present.