Unmarked. Clean.
Boring enough to be forgettable.
Except it’s not.
Not now.
I lean forward.
Just far enough to see the tag.
Type it into my notes app.
Screenshot it for good measure.
Commit the shape of his shoulders to memory.
Again.
The way he unlocks the door without looking.
Confident. Practiced.
The line of his back when he slides inside.
Strong. Solid.
Fuck.
He starts the engine.
Pulls out smooth.
No checking mirrors twice.
Drives like a man with somewhere to be.
Someone to follow.
I need a new notebook.
Pink, obviously.
With little hearts on the spine.
Something spiral-bound.
Refillable.
High ink-absorption pages for all the notes I’m about to take.
Because this one?
This one’s going to be special.
I can already tell.
Chapter Six
