SOFIA
I avoided him. It wasn't deliberate but I followed the structure, moving only where allowed and staying within the set limits. But I didn’t go where he was.
It didn’t last; nothing here ever did. By the third day, the space between avoidance and intention had thinned into a dangerous overlap. I knew where he would be, and this time, I went anyway. The east wing, of course. The door was open just enough, and I stepped inside without knocking.
He was at the table, not working, just standing with one hand resting against the surface as if the space had already been cleared for my arrival. He looked up immediately.
“You’ve been avoiding this space,” he said.
“I’ve been elsewhere,” I replied. “It’s only the same thing when it’s intentional.”
“Yes.”
I stepped forward, slower than us
