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Eric was an artist so he noticed details. Like poppies growing outside the window of the restaurant where he sat. And the bright green shampoo bottle sitting on a ledge inside a window—probably a shower—of the condominium next door.
When the slender blond sat at the table next to him, Eric noticed the faraway look in her blue eyes. The novel under her arm said she was there to eat and read. Period. Eric recognized the book, one he’d read.
Next morning, Eric thought Sonya’s hair smelled so fresh after she’d used the shampoo in the green bottle.