Gradually. Ever so gradually, he noticed her work routine. She'd come into the shop below the CCTV camera that gave him his vantage point. She'd stop, check her skirt, then turn and wave. Wave straight at him, it seemed.

Once when he spilt his coffee he swore she looked up, about to greet the camera (or him?) and then the smile vanished. As if she had seen what had happened and was sorry for his stained pants.

In trawling through the back footage, looking for a pattern. Something to identify who had planted the device that had wrecked half the Mall. Over the weeks of material, it slowly seemed as if she was staring, smiling, waving at HIM. As if her smashed corpse had known in advance that he would one day discover her alive. Even in the past.

He'd checked up on her. Used his contacts. Following a lead, he'd said. Probably nothing. Just being sure. Definitely single. Definitely desirable. Definitely dead.

He caught himself thinking of her often. Looking forward to reviewing more CCTV footage. It was stupid. The other agents thought him mad; no leads there. But maybe, maybe it explained why he hit ERASE on the one day her routine changed. The day she brought in a large box, placed it down behind a display, then turned and blew him a kiss.