The sidewalk outside Artemis Tower still held the day's heat, trapped between glass and concrete like something that didn't know how to leave.
Early evening traffic moved in uneven lines, engines idling too long at lights that seemed slower than usual. A delivery rider tapped his helmet impatiently. A woman in heels checked her phone twice before stepping off the curb, then stopping, then stepping again.
Galathea Brooks stood at the edge of the crosswalk, one hand loosely wrapped around the strap of her bag. The signal had turned green.
It didn't change, not immediately.
It held for half a second longer than it should have, the light flickering as if reconsidering, then settling into permission.
She crossed anyway.
Her pace didn't change, but her gaze lowered slightly, tracking the lines painted on asphalt. They looked recently redone. Too clean. The edges sharper than the rest of the street deserved.
