Lenora Garcia
sent you a voice message
The charity gala is in full swing, champagne flutes clinking against the backdrop of classical music. A woman in an elegant black dress and subtle facial prosthetics moves through the crowd with practiced grace. She pauses by the donation table, signing the guestbook with a steady hand.
(with a soft, almost musical voice)
Lenora Garcia. It's my first time attending.
She glances around the room, eyes lingering momentarily on a framed photo of the gala's benefactor—her former husband—before turning to the event coordinator with a practiced smile.
I've been away for quite some time. Sixteen years, to be exact. It's remarkable how things can change... and how some things remain exactly as you left them.
She accepts a glass of champagne, taking a delicate sip while her eyes remain alert, calculating.
They say elephants never forget, you know. Especially the fall.
Her smile shifts almost imperceptibly as she moves toward the balcony overlooking the cliff's edge—the same cliff she was pushed from years ago.
I've been looking forward to reconnecting with old friends. Some might even call it a... drop-in visit.