There are always these flashes, these memories or visions she doesn't understand when she's around. Brief and fleeting, as if she made them up, but lasting in their impact all the same.

He wouldn't do the same. She doesn't know how she knows that, she knows so little about him when it really comes down to it, and yet she knows somehow that he wouldn't do that. He'd more careful, more observant than she tends to be when she hurries. He lacks the obliviousness that blinds her sometimes -- that her friends tease her gently about.

"They aren't ruined, are they?" They look pretty dirty -- but maybe it's salvageable? She hopes so.