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Weekly Contest #309
The booth groaned beneath him as Jonah shifted, the haze of his sleep still clinging to him, as if he hadn’t just woken from rest but something deeper. Something colder. Then he saw her. Sat at the bar with her back to him. Her dress, pale blue, soft as river mist, draped from her shoulders like it remembered another time. A ribbon, loose and languid, traced the line of her dark hair, tied without care—like she hadn’t needed a mirror, like it belonged to no one else. Jonah couldn’t blink. He didn’t need to see her face, just the shape of her...
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