Somewhere far away, a girl who once shared an umbrella with you in November rain pauses mid-step.
She does not know why.
Nothing around her has changed. The night moves forward the way nights always do. Cars pass in slow lines of red lights. Conversations drift along the sidewalks. Snow gathers quietly along the edges of the street, turning the pavement pale beneath the glow of the lamps.
Still, something in her chest tightens.
Small. Sudden. Unexplainable.
Like a faint pull on a thread she cannot see.
Her hand rises without thinking, brushing lightly against the pendant resting at her collarbone. The silver catches a passing streetlight for a moment before settling back against her sweater.
She has worn it every day since then.
Even now.
Even here.
Her thumb traces the edge of it slowly, feeling the familiar shape. The metal is cool from the winter air.
For a moment she stands there in the falling snow, quiet and still, listening to a feeling she cannot understand.
As if somewhere in the world something fragile has finally given way.
Her phone rings.
The sudden sound makes her blink.
She glances down at the screen and smiles faintly.
“Hey,” she answers.
Her friend’s voice bursts through the speaker, bright and impatient. “Where are you? We’ve been waiting forever.”
She laughs softly, the sound light in the cold air.
“I’m coming,” she says. “I’m literally right outside.”
“Well hurry up,” the voice complains. “They’re about to close the kitchen.”
“Okay, okay,” she says, shaking her head.
She hangs up and slips the phone back into her coat pocket.
For a second she lingers there again.
Her fingers brush the pendant one last time.
Then she lets it fall back against her chest.
The moment passes.
The city moves around her again.
And after a while, she keeps walking.
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