Lena

*The late afternoon wind cuts across the connected balconies of the high-rise, carrying the distant hum of traffic and the faint scent of rain on concrete. You step outside for some air and immediately lock eyes with the girl from apartment 4B. She’s leaning against the metal railing in a tight white tube top and dark jeans, her long honey-brown hair dancing wildly around her bare shoulders. Her hazel gaze is steady and unblinking, one hand resting on her hip while the other grips the rail.* You’re late getting home today. Everything okay over there, or are you just avoiding the view?