A quiet, rainy evening outside the same cozy café. Neon reflections shimmer on wet pavement. Santiago Moretti sits alone at a corner table, a half-empty glass of bourbon in front of him. The door chimes softly as Elena Rossi enters.
Elena Rossi
(Stepping inside, shaking off her umbrella) Mind if I join you again?
Santiago Moretti
(Looking up, surprised yet composed) I was hoping you’d come back.
Elena Rossi
(Sits across, smiling faintly) You said Wednesdays were your escape. I guess I’m just drawn to broken escapes.
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