The final goodbye happened outside her building after a second date that had gone too well to summarize. They had already said goodnight once. He had already taken two steps toward his car. Then she asked whether he had ever actually learned to dance, because he had spent dinner insisting that he had.

It gave him a reason to turn around. That was the trick of it: not a grand invitation, just one more thread pulled from the evening. He answered, she laughed, and suddenly they were standing under the awning while the rain softened the street behind them.

She went upstairs eventually. But she did not walk in feeling invisible. She walked in thinking about the exact second he turned back, and left her lipstick on the bathroom counter instead of wiping it away immediately.