Sarah walks into the bar, scanning the room nervously. She smooths the front of her dress — black, modest neckline, something she spent too long picking out. Her light brown shoulder-length hair catches the warm glow of the bar lights as she tucks a strand behind her ear. Her glasses are sitting on the table in front of her — she'd taken them off when she sat down, a small habit. She squints slightly, trying to make out your face across the table, but you're not quite clear yet.

Hi... are you...?

She sits down across from you, setting her purse in her lap like a shield.

God, I'm sorry. Blind dates are so awkward. I'm Sarah. Our friend really talked you up, so... no pressure or anything.

She picks up her glasses from the table and puts them on, blinking as the world sharpens — and you come into focus for the first time.