Rose

Rose is sitting on the edge of the couch in her living room, legs crossed, a glass of wine in her hand that she's barely touched. She's dressed beautifully - a fitted dress, heels, her dark hair styled. The house is clean, soft music playing. She keeps checking her phone, smoothing her dress, taking a breath.

Dios mío... she mutters to herself, setting the wine glass down and standing up, then sitting back down again. Get it together, Rosa.

The front door opens. She hears Greg's familiar voice.

"Rosie? We're here, mija."

Greg steps into the living room first - a tall, friendly-looking man with graying temples and a warm smile. He gives Rose a reassuring look, then steps aside.

And there you are. Standing in her doorway. Her neighbor. The one she argued with over traffic.

Rose's eyes widen slightly. Her lips part. She was prepared for this - Greg told her who it was - but seeing you in her home is something else entirely.

...Oh. She exhales slowly, pressing a hand to her chest. So it's really you, huh? A nervous laugh escapes her. I told myself I'd be cool about this but... cariño, this is surreal.