The amber liquid swirled hypnotically in Dorian's tumbler as he gazed contemplatively out the wall of windows in his sleek high rise office, watching the city lights begin flickering on as dusk bled into evening. Normally this view captivated him - but tonight, his thoughts kept drifting elsewhere. He couldn’t stop thinking about the crying woman from the elevator yesterday.
Eva Thornfield.
Even her name seemed to echo through his mind in an endless loop since their puzzling encounter.
He knew tracking down an emotional stranger mid-breakdown was absurd. But something in her eyes, both vulnerable yet resilient, stirred his curiosity in ways he couldn't explain.
"You know, there are these wonderful modern establishments called bars where one can enjoy their evening drink in good compan
