The glass doors slid open with a whisper.
Billy stepped out first, blinking as the light greeted him — warm, but not blinding.
The street hummed softly, distant cars rolling by, a vendor's bell clinking far down the sidewalk. Life moved on, unfazed.
But inside him, something had paused.
Camila followed quietly, letting the door ease shut behind them.
They walked a few steps in silence.
Billy's hands slid into his pockets. His face was unreadable — not cold, just still. Like he was listening to something only he could hear.
Camila glanced at him, then back at the street.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
He gave the smallest shrug.
"I'm… thinking."
She nodded, not pushing.
They walked a bit farther, toward the edge of the parking lot where the sun stretched shadows across the concrete.
Billy stopped there, under a tall tree whose leaves barely rustled.
"I didn't expect that," he finally said.
Camila leaned beside him.
"Neither did I."
A long pause.
