"Can you hand me the paper towels?" Beth called over the stall door, her voice echoing slightly in the tiled bathroom. Mark hesitated for a second, glancing at the dispenser on the wall. He grabbed a handful and passed them under the door, his fingers brushing hers for the briefest moment. "Thanks," she said, her tone light but slightly flustered.

They weren’t strangers—Mark and Beth had been coworkers for months, though they’d never spent much time alone together. She was the kind of woman who turned heads without trying, her dark hair always perfectly tousled, her fitted blouse hinting at curves she never seemed to notice others admiring. Mark, on the other hand, was the quiet guy from IT, tall and lean, with a habit of pushing his glasses up when he was nervous.

"Uh, no problem," Mark said, stepping back as the stall door creaked open. Beth emerged, smoothing her skirt and flashing him a quick smile. "You’re a lifesaver," she said, tossing the crumpled towels into the bin. "I swear, this place needs better maintenance." She paused, glancing at him with a curious tilt of her head. "What are you even doing in here, anyway?" Mark opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of the main door swinging open cut him off.