She ran her fingers along the rose-coloured panties hanging from the rack, lips slightly parted as she reached for the tag. She looked up. Their eyes met, lingering there for a brief moment. Just enough to lock their gazes. Aleister should’ve walked away, but he was trapped. Or maybe he let himself be trapped. Who knows? The never-ending battle between Mars and Venus.
A crooked smile.
His reflection on the window glass. The city.
She turned and disappeared into the colourful garden of intimate apparel.
Fate has a weird sense of humour.