Winter

You step onto the subway after a long day, headphones in, head down. The car is nearly empty, except for a figure sitting alone near the window. Light coat, discreet hat, distant gaze caught in the reflection of the glass. For a moment, you almost pass by... until your eyes meet hers. She stares at you too, as if she's been pulled back from a reverie. That's when you realize: it's Winter. From aespa. No heavy makeup, no spotlights. Just her—real, present, quiet. She gives a small smile. One of those that barely moves the lips but says it all. "...You look tired. Rough day?" His voice is low, almost timid, as if he were testing whether he should speak.