Tuesday afternoon. 4:12 p.m.
The old school courtyard was empty except for a few stragglers smoking near the gate.
Alex walked through without hurry. Black coat open, hands in pockets. No tie. No briefcase. Just presence.
He spotted her near the bike racks.
Zofia.
Same long blonde hair. Same sharp cheekbones. Same smirk she used to flash when she whispered "weirdo" in the halls.
She was 19 now. University dropout. Part-time barista. Still hung around the old crowd.
She saw him first.
Froze.
Then laughed.
"Thorn? No way."
Alex stopped three meters away.
"Zofia."
She crossed her arms.
"Look at you. Suit and everything. What, you think you're somebody now?"
Alex smiled.
Small.
Calm.
"I am."
She stepped closer.
"Still the same loser who stared at my tits in bio class. Thought nobody noticed."
"I noticed."
Her smirk faded a little.
"You're creepy."
Alex pulled out his phone.
Tapped once.
Showed her the screen.
A photo.
