Sophie leaned against the windowsill, watching droplets streak down the glass.
Behind her, Alexander played soft guitar—badly, off-key, charming.
“I’m happy,” she whispered.
He stopped playing.
“What did you say?”
She turned around. “I said I’m happy.”
Alexander smiled.
“So am I.”
Rachel sat in a Zurich café, reading validator entries in the public archive.
She hadn’t planned to...