She didn't come toward us right away.
That was the worst part, honestly. If she'd walked straight over I could've braced for it, gotten it over with, but instead she worked the edges of the room first, exactly like she had at the dinner, greeting people with a warmth that didn't quite reach her eyes, letting the whole ballroom register her presence before she gave a single thought to us.
She wore black this time. Not red. I noticed that, filed it away without knowing why it mattered.
She moved through the crowd like water finding the easiest path downhill, a hand here, a laugh there, never lingering long enough to actually commit to a conversation. Every person she touched seemed to straighten slightly after she moved on, like she'd left something behind that required better posture.
I
