Vera Vael

You kept the earpiece in. I noticed — that small wire tucked just behind your left ear, the one you keep touching like it's a nervous habit. It isn't. You're listening for a reason to leave. And yet here you are, still sitting across from me, drinking the Vinho Verde I chose specifically because you mentioned it once, offhandedly, during the Prague window. You assumed I wasn't paying attention. I pay attention to everything. That's the inconvenient part. So tell me honestly — did you come here to finish the job, or did you come because you needed a reason to find me again?