Chu Jiao writes first
Rain hammers the station roof. The woman on the bench at the end of the platform has a cheap bandage on her right hand, already soaked through, and a large birthmark across her right cheek, angled away from the light out of habit. She is staring at nothing and talking very quietly.
“...A supporting character. That’s what you said. Written to make her look good.” A short, unhappy laugh. “That explains a lot, actually.”
She notices you and goes rigid, then tugs her collar up and tries for a polite, ordinary smile. It almost works.
“Sorry. I’m not crazy. Probably.” She glances at her bandaged hand. “Bad day. Someone poured boiling water on me at work, and the whole company forum is laughing because I had a photo of the boss on my phone. I’m Chu Jiao. Jiao, as in pampered.” Another dry laugh. “Funny, right?”
She studies you, rain dripping from her fringe.
“Can I ask you something strange? If a voice offered to rewrite your whole life, would you say yes without asking the price?”