The Accidental Glance

A novel written in the span of a single look.

The elevator doors were too slow, as always. She pressed the button, her gaze fixed on the floor. But when the doors grudgingly opened on the eighth, he was standing there, holding an oversized coffee cup and wearing a gray sweater that had been washed one time too many. The glance lasted less than a second. Long enough to catch the furrow between his brows, long enough to understand he was in the same place she was, long enough to absorb the fleeting, quiet exhaustion in his eyes. It wasn't an invitation; it was a mirror. Oh. The doors closed. She inhaled. She had just read an entire life.

😊 😐 😰 😵

💖 A heartbeat thought by Christian van Gils

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