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I met eyes with Brenda. I saw the recognition on her face. "Great," I muttered to myself. We'd only exchanged looks through our windshields for mere seconds, but those seconds lasted for the duration of my drive. The older woman had seen me, and she knew it was me. I couldn't get her expression out of my head. I saw the way her lips parted, the way her eyes had actually turned toward my car as I passed. I could only imagine what she was thinking. I tapped my thumb on the steering wheel along with the music and tried to put the instance out of my head. It didn't work. Stopping by to see Luke wasn't a big deal. Brenda didn't hate me. That look told me so much, though. Why would I be passing her on her own road right as she departed? How coincidental could that really be? I wondered if she