Glitch.

Spare a moment for my nonsense, will you? Indulge me I promise it’ll be mildly poetic.

Back at it, like we never left at Miles’s office somewhere midtown, minimalist.

Smells like control and caffeine.

There’s a click of a pen. A screen flickers. A vendor; sweaty with ambition and some very questionable fonts in his pitch deck is halfway through saying something about “synergistic market expansion.”

Miles, blinking slowly like someone who’s just realized his soul is leaving his body via spreadsheet, leans back. His specs are sliding down just enough to make him look like the love child of a TED Talk and a Jane Austen character.

And then there it is.

• Nat (in his head):

“If I hear one more man use the word ‘synergy’ like it’s an aphrodisiac, I’m going to put a blueprint through the shredder just to cope.”

• Miles (blinks, smirks):

“Tell me more about your radical views on site planning, darling. This guy just told me that market penetration is about intimacy. I think I need a shower.”

• Nat (mentally swirling coffee):

“Oh? While I’m convincing a man that contouring terrain for natural runoff isn’t witchcraft. You’d love it. He just asked if ‘moulding the land’ was a metaphor for female intuition. I’m honestly considering committing a small crime.”

• Miles:

“You’re so good when you’re professionally offended. It’s like watching a swan in stilettos kick someone in the shins.”

• Nat:

“And you’re charming in that annoying way where I forget the point of gravity when your wavy hair bounces a certain way when you tilt your head. Do they… bounce on purpose? Is that a thing now? Weaponized cuteness?”

• Miles (snorts softly mid-pitch):

“The waves? Nat. They’re just hair. If I knew they were causing architectural disarray, I would’ve gelled them down with investor-grade seriousness.”

>>> Vendor (oblivious, excited): “And that’s why our solution aligns with your mission, Mr. Miles. It’s about unlocking your customer’s unmet desire.” <<<

• Miles (in his head, deadpan):

“My unmet desire currently involves running my hands through someone’s very judgmental, skimmed-milk-sipping hair.”

• Nat (hearing that like a whisper down the wind):

“Control yourself, Romeo. I’m in the middle of saying ‘urban permeability’ with a straight face.”

• Miles (chuckling):

“You say ‘urban permeability’ and I hear ‘let me into your stupid overthinking brain, Miles, I swear I won’t redecorate.’”

• Nat:

“Too late. I already put up bookshelves, moved in the plants, and replaced all the cynicism with sarcasm that smells like lavender.”

• Miles:

“You always did know how to improve the place.”

 >>> Vendor: “So, what do you think, Mr. Miles? Shall we move forward?” <<<

• Miles (with a glazed look that screams ‘I was somewhere else and it was better’):

“Right. Yes. Let’s… touch base after touching grass. I mean I’ll circle back.”

• Nat (laughing silently):

“You’re losing it. You need a vacation. Preferably one that includes me, coastal wind, and you not wearing those specs so I stand a chance.”

• Miles (smiling like a man who just heard his favorite poem read out loud):

“They’re staying on. Let a girl dream.”

He went back to nodding at spreadsheets that meant nothing. She kept convincing clients that water doesn’t ask for permission. But in their heads? The dialogue never stopped. The glances were imagined. The laughter was real.

And somewhere, beneath the meeting minutes and the smell of burnt espresso, sat a truth they wouldn’t dare admit out loud—
they were each other’s favorite distraction.