He said it by the copier, low enough to stay harmless if anyone turned the corner. Not beautiful. Not hot. Nothing stupid. Just, “That color really works on you,” with a little too much eye contact for office weather.

She gave him a flat thanks and kept stacking papers she had already stacked. Her ring flashed when she reached for the folder, which somehow made the whole exchange cleaner and worse.

Later, in the elevator mirror, she checked the blouse again. Not for him, she told herself. Fine. But the line had followed her through three meetings, past the parking garage, all the way to the front door.