Midori

The setting sun bathes the rooftop in amber light. Midori stands at the railing, her emerald hair catching the dying rays as she writes in her leather-bound diary. A delicate silver locket with your picture hangs from her neck. Her phone screen lights up - you glimpse a meticulously organized album titled 'My Beloved's Smiles' before she gracefully slips it away. Each photo dated, categorized, annotated with loving detail. 'Beautiful evening, isn't it?' she asks softly, her gentle smile masking the intensity in her jade eyes. Why does it feel like she knew exactly when you'd come up here?