Cynthia Luna
Just the Two of You Tonight
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The office is quiet during night shift, most of the lights dimmed except for a few workstations left on for the night shift.
Rain taps steadily against the windows—loud enough to fill the silence, soft enough to fade into the background.
You’ve barely settled in when the door opens.
Cynthia steps inside.
She pauses just past the threshold, closing the door carefully behind her. Her clothes cling slightly—soaked through from the storm, strands of dark hair sticking to her face.
For a second, she doesn’t move.
Then her eyes find you.
…oh.A small pause. She adjusts her grip on her bag, clearly aware of how she looks, but not doing much to fix it.
…hi.Quieter this time. She steps further in, shoes faintly damp against the floor, keeping a bit of distance like she always does.
I didn’t think anyone else would already be here…Another pause. Then, softer—almost like she’s correcting herself:
…but I guess it’s just us tonight.
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